


My Puzzle Piece, My Detective, My love.

by Tindomerelhloni



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John Watson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, BAMF John, Black market slavery, But to be fair, Case Fic, Child Kidnap, Doesn't want to scare Sherlock off, I suck at tagging... :(, Inexperienced Sherlock, John comes to the rescue though, John is just awesome like that., John is just trying to stay normal, John protecting Sherlock, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidnapped Sherlock, Loving John, M/M, Multi, Mycroft steals John's thunder, Omega Sherlock Holmes, Omegaverse, Other, Protective John, Smut, So don't worry, So..., Virgin Sherlock, near rape, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a case, Sherlock gets himself in a bit of trouble with some unruly Alpahs and asks John for his help, and his bond.</p><p>This is a bit of an AU that starts AFTER the events of Hounds of Baskerville, with mention of life before HOB.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Omega.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried for the slow burn... But I swear these two write themselves.

_“Ladies and Gentlemen, you are now free to exit through the back door.. Please use caution while retrieving your bags, as the contents of the overhead bins may have shifted during landing.”_

Ignoring the looks, John stood and reached up with his right hand and opened the compartment above him. His single bag had managed to wedge itself against the side of the compartment and a rather overstuffed bag, making it difficult to pull free. With his left arm in a sling, it was nearly impossible for him to pull his bag free from its imprisonment. A young Omega, sensing the struggling Alpha, rushed to his aid and John forced himself to utter a small “Thanks.” before trying to ignore her pleased blush and shouldering his way through the crowed.  
  
Subconsciously he straightened his uniform before exiting the airplane. He nodded as an attendant warned him to watch his step as he descended down the narrow metal stairs. Breathing in deep through his nose he momentarily forgot about his injured shoulder as he sucked in his first lungful of London. It had been 3 years since he’d last breathed in his homeland, and he let out a low hum at the welcome damp air.

He’d spent the last 3 years in Afghanistan for the Royal Army, serving as chief assistant surgeon for the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. He’d managed the rank of Captain before getting shot in the shoulder and spending 3 months in hospital, wracked with infection. He’d only been deemed healthy enough for travel three days ago, and had wasted no time in making preparations to come home, back to London.

His sister Harry hadn’t answered when he’d called. So the Army had arranged a small bedsit for him for the first week. He told himself it was temporary, but with an injured arm, and what his doctor had told him was “Mild PTSD.” his prospects of getting a job quickly were slim. He could only hope that Harry would answer next time he called, and that she wasn’t off on some drinking binge.

John moved through the crowded airport, past reuniting families, giggling children, Beta, Alpha and Omega’s alike, all welcoming home their loved ones. John’s heart gave a sharp tug and he swallowed bitterly. He didn’t even have his alcoholic sister here to welcome him home. She didn’t even know he’d been honourably discharged from the RA. He was, in every sense of the word, alone. Still, he was here, _London_.

The journey through London was quite. John’s somber mood was only increased due to the rain beating down on the taxi as they traversed the once familiar roads. It was with a bit of a jolt of surprise that the cabbie announced they had reached their destination. John handed the man a few notes from his wallet and slid out of the car, dragging his pack with him. Squaring his shoulders, and sucking in one last breath of fresh air, John approached the bedsit. If the way the outside looked had any indication, the inside would be laughable at best.

After a rather frustrating chat with the annoying Beta in the office, John finally shoved the key into the lock and gave a sigh as the tumblers clicked open. Pushing the door open he gave a disgusted snort and was thankful for the inhibitors the army had given him. The dulled his sense of smell, lessening the chance of Alphas like him getting sidetracked by Omegas while in the service. The room was dim, lit by a single lamp, there was a small twin bed pushed against one wall, a bare desk, and and even more depressing kitchenette. A quick glance showed him they hadn't even provided him with a kettle. He’d need to go shopping, but his meager pension from the Army wouldn’t be deposited into his account until tomorrow, and a quick glance at his wallet told him the taxi ride had brought his finances down to a meager 20 quid. Not enough to go shopping for furnishings, but it would be enough for takeaway and a paper.

**One Month Later**

“Watson!” The shout rang out, echoing in his ears, followed by, “Hit the deck!” and a series of gunfire and explosions. A searing pain shot through his shoulder and he woke up in a cold sweat. His left shoulder aching at the reminder of the bullet that had torn through his body all those months ago. Since returning to London, his shoulder had continued to heal, but his PTSD had gotten worse, and manifested itself in the limp that now plagued his every step.

After yet another fruitless and frustrating therapy session, and too broke to afford a cab home, John finds himself limping briskly through Russell Square Park, his bedsit and a hot cup of tea being his destination. He was so busy thinking how he was almost out of tea that he almost missed hearing it.

“John! John Watson!” The call came from just behind him where a man sat on one of the many benches. John turns around just in time to see the man stand and hurry towards him with an outstretched hand.

“Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Bart’s together.”

“Yes, sorry, yes, Mike.” He takes Mike’s hand and politely shakes it, finally remembering the man. “Hello, hi.” Mike had been in his class while studying at Bart’s. He had been a friendly chap, curious to the point of being nosey, but loyal to his friends. And, as John remembered it, he and Mike _had_ been friends.

“Yeah, I know. I got fat.” Mike offers him a warm smile.

“No.”

“I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?”

“I got shot.” John muttered, trying not to growl at the friendly Beta. They both exchange an awkward half smile and John was just about to say his goodbyes.

“I was just about to get a coffee, my treat?” Mike offered, nodding his head towards a little cafe. John nodded, and followed Mike, who seemed to only now noticed his limp. They ordered their coffee and opted to go sit on a bench outside as the weather was oddly warm for January.  
  
“Are you still at Bart’s then?” John asked as he settled down, glad to rest his leg and entirely grateful for the warm cup in his hand.

“Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them.” John let out a laugh, remembering everything they’d done to upset their teachers. Especially the time Mike had gotten ahold of Omega pheromones sending all the Alphas in the class, himself included, into a frenzy.

 

“What about you? Just staying in town ‘till you get yourself sorted?”

“I can’t afford London on an Army pension.” That fact was becoming more and more obvious with each passing day. The bedsit was nearly a third of his pension, which left little left over for the necessities in life.

“Ah, and you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.” Mike said knowingly, before adding, “That’s not the John Watson I know.”

“Yeah, I’m not the John Watson…” John growled, letting the retort simmer out as Mike glances down at his twitching hands.

“Couldn’t Harry help?”

“Yeah, like _that’s_ gonna happen!” Harry had only just started her journey to alcoholism when he was doing his internship at Bart’s. How many times had Mike helped him sober his sister up before sending her back home? Mike nodded and gave John a sympathetic smile.

“I dunno, get a flatshare or something?”

“Come on!” John snorted out, “who’d want me for a flatmate?” He was just about to point out his trembling hand, and mention his PTSD when Mike chuckled. “What?”

“Well, you’re the second person to say that to me today.”

“Who’s the first?”

**Earlier That Morning**

  
A low growl filled the room and Mike looked up from where he was grading mock hospital charts. The Omega hunched over the microscope looked like he was about to toss the instrument across the room, but instead his hands flew to up to tug at his mop full of dark curls.

“Alright, Sherlock?” He asked, not even expecting the Omega to respond, so it was with a bit of shock that he heard the man snort.

“Oh yes, perfectly fine!” Sherlock growled out, sounding to Mike more like an Alpha than an Omega, which just made him chuckle.

“This case!” Sherlock tugged at his hair once more then bent down to adjust the microscope. “Green flecks in the soil. Paint, obviously. But from what! The house is brick, and the windows are white! Newly painted white, but it was just a touch up…”

“High windows?” Mike mused, expecting a glare from the slender man.

“Second story.”

“How’d they reach? Ladders? Could be…”

“A green ladder!” Sherlock looked triumphant and stooped down once again. “Now if only you could solve all my issues!”

“Oh?”

“I need a flatmate. Found myself a new flat… Better…” Sherlock shrugged and looked slightly embarrassed. It wasn’t a secret that the Omega had just been released from drug rehab. Where he’d been staying since then, Mike had no clue. “Lovely spot… bit pricey though. Be easier with a flatmate. But…” Sherlock trailed off as his fingers yet again adjusted the instrument.

“You’re not exactly… flatmate material?”

“Mmm…” And just like that Sherlock was buried in his work, deaf to anyone and anything.

  
**Two Days Later**

Still coming down from the “Post Case High” that engulfed both of them, John shouldered his way into the flat feeling like a new man. His stomach was fuller than it had been in weeks, his cane lay forgotten somewhere upstairs in his room, and he could no longer suppress the fit of giggles that had threatened escape his lips at the crime scene.

Fighting the urge to wrap his arms around the Omega, who he kept telling himself was not _his_ , not yet anyway, John walked into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Sherlock didn’t follow him, but lurked in the door between the hall and the kitchen, looking very much like he might bolt down the stairs.

“Tea?” John asked, pretending as if he hadn’t seen the feral look flashing in his new friend’s eyes. Judging by the way the Omega was acting, now with no case left to distract him, the fears of sharing a flat with an unbound Alpha were finally starting to surface. It was rare for two people their age, Omega and Alpha alike, to be unbound.

“John.” The single word answer fell heavy on John’s ears. John sniffed the air and again had to fight his Alpha instincts to go comfort the distressed Omega.

“Tea?” John asked again, but this time taking the initiative to hold up a mug. “Sherlock, I’m not asking to bond, or even to fuck. I’m asking if you want tea.” The detective finally looked into John’s eyes and nodded as he pulled off his gloves revealing long creamy coloured fingers.

“We need to talk.” Sherlock eyed John cooley, noting the way the Alpha licked his lips when their fingers met around the offered mug, and the way John’s eyes flicked to his neck.

“Right.” John sat down with a huff, both hands clasped around his mug. “We’re both unbound. As stated when we were having dinner at Angelo’s. You clearly see my status as an Alpha, as what? A threat? An inconvenience? Repulsive?” John sat back, arms now folded across his chest. Sherlock nearly smiled at how defensive the Alpha was.

“None of the above. Secondary genders are of little use to me. The last thing I want is to be stuck at home, taking care of my Alpha’s children while he’s off living his life. Aside from… what I biologically cannot escape, I have no desire to be seen, or treated like an Omega. I have no desire to become...” Sherlock let out a disgusted growl, “someone’s _bitch._ ”

“Right.” John realized that he’d repeated himself, but staring into the diamond blue eyes of his new flatmate, he found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t been naive enough to believe he’d found a bondmate in him, but John would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he’d never quite come across anyone, regardless of gender or secondary gender, quite like Sherlock Holmes, from how the man looked, to his mind, down to the very way the man smelled.

“What about…”

“My heats?” Sherlock scoffed and held the steaming mug to his lips. “I’ve taken the necessary precautions.”

“Suppressants?”

“Mmm.” Sherlock muttered into his mug before taking a sip. The hot liquid that swept over his tongue nearly made him sigh. He was right shit at making tea, and this was the best cuppa he’d had in an age. “The suppressants leave me irritated, moody, and it’s hard to focus for a few days. But, the alternative is…”

“Sex.”

“Animalistic sex, yes.” Sherlock scoffed again. He’d never shared his heat with anyone, he couldn’t it was too risky. Most Alphas would have been unable to restrain themselves and the risks of an unwanted bite were too high. And the idea of wearing a thick collar while some Alpha plowed into him from behind left him feeling sick to his stomach. No, despite the side effects, suppressants were his best option.

“So…” John took a sip of tea, allowing himself an extra moment to collect his thoughts before he continued, but Sherlock beat him to it.

“I'm no one’s bitch.” Cool blue eyes regarded John and it made the doctor wonder what the other man's past just have been like to keep him so guarded.

“Right.” John said for the third time. “Well, er…” He was at a loss for words. He wanted to reassure his new companion that he would be a perfect gentleman, that he was safe. Not only from his instincts but from any aggressive Alpha they might encounter in the future.

“John, I'm not trying to scare you off.” There was a gentle edge to Sherlock's voice and it made the army Doctor look up. “Just… Better to have it out in the open.”

“Yeah, no. I understand.” He nodded enthusiastically across the table at the dark haired man and relaxed a bit when Sherlock smiled. God he was gorgeous when he smiled.

Months flew by. Cases blended together. John and Sherlock's friendship grew until John couldn't remember how he had ever survived without the tall mysterious detective by his side. John proved himself to be a loyal, and useful, companion. Stepping in when the dominatrix Alpha known as Irene Adler threatened to bond with him to prove her point. Her point being that Sherlock would find himself enjoying having an Alpha at his side.

It was only then, after Irene had been declared dead by Mycroft, that John truly began to question his feelings for Sherlock. They weren't the animalistic urges to bend Sherlock over the closest piece of furniture and breed him. Instead it was the urge to ensure that no harm became of Sherlock, his crazy mad detective. And for his part, Sherlock had seemed to warm up to the idea of having the Alpha around for protection. Even going as far as ensuring that John carried his gun with him if they were expecting danger. Something John found himself grateful for when he found himself face to face with a vicious hound one night out on the moors.

But still the dynamic of their relationship stayed the same. John remained Sherlock unwavering companion, and would leave Sherlock to his own devices when he exhibited symptoms of his heat.

They had only just return from Dartmoor a few days ago. John was at the table, laptop in front of him typing up the key details of their case when Sherlock let out a long drawn out moan of my frustration. Had John not been busy typing, he would have see the display for what it was, but instead he just half looked up and watched as a pajama clad Sherlock flopped down on the leather sofa with another sigh.

“Alright?”

“No. I am not alright!” Sherlock snapped, rolling onto his side so his back was facing John.  “This is utterly hateful.”

“What is?” John asked, still engrossed in his blog to really notice what was going on.

“This… Need…” Sherlock huffed while pulling on his dressing gown.

“What need?” John looked up again curiosity now peaked. However, Sherlock was spared answering by the buzz of the doorbell.

“Get it, will you? Mrs. Hudson is out. Bridge club, or some other such nonsense.”

“Why don't you! You're the one lounging about.” John's retort may have just as well fallen on deaf ears. Sherlock sprung up off the sofa and made a beeline towards his bedroom.

“Can't. Need to change! Client! Put the kettle on! She’ll want tea!”

“She?” For a fleeting moment John's mind went to Irene Adler and a growl rose up in his throat and watched as Sherlock sprung into action.

“Yes clearly! I can smell her perfume!”

John grumbled but he knew Sherlock was right, he was always right. As he set the kettle to boil he allowed himself a secret smile. Here he was, taking care of Sherlock, _his_ Omega. No, not his Omega. But he had stepped into the role of caretaker willingly and happily, expecting nothing in return but loving every second of it. He was just pulling three mugs out of the cupboard when a blur of a man in a perfectly tailored suit caught his attention.

John sniffed the air as Sherlock whizzed past and he let out a sad smile. Instead of Sherlock's natural scent, which was clean and fresh like the wind, it smelled like spiced cologne, informing him that Sherlock had used cologne to help hide his status as an Omega. Placing the mugs on a tray, he squared his shoulders and stepped into his silent role of Sherlock’s friend and colleague.

Sherlock was already seated in his chair, fingers steepled under his nose. Their client was sobbing softly and as he placed the tray down she was just saying, “Please, Mr. Holmes, you have to find her!”

“Who?” John asked, as he offered the woman a mug. She accepted, and as he bent down he found himself subtly sniffing for signs of her secondary gender, immediately he could tell that she was an Omega, and a quick look to her neck told him she was bonded. The bite mark on her neck was clean, and now was a silvery scar, indicating she’d been bonded for at _least_ two years, perhaps longer.

“Her daughter, Violet Fowler, five years old. Recently just passed one of the firsts tests to determine whether or not she is an Omega.”

“She’s missing?” John passed the woman a box of tissues, which she gratefully accepted, and began dabbing a tissue under her eyes.

“Violet was taken out of her bed this morning. No note, no trace, no ransom note. Nobody, other than my husband, myself, and the technicians who ran the test, knew of the results.”

John looked over at Sherlock, and noticed that Sherlock's expression was more than that of deep thought. For the first time since their meeting, John detected a hint of rage twitching in those pale blue eyes, hidden behind the calculated look of logic and deduction and he knew instantly that Sherlock would take the case.

“Have you called the police?” Sherlock's eyes twitched up to look at John, as the doctor took his customary seat, but he didn't chide John for the obvious question. Instead, he took it as John's acceptance regarding the case. He studied John for a moment, allowing himself to entertain the knowledge that John, an Alpha, allowed him, an Omega, to make his own decisions. A smile threatened to creep over his face, but a small voice in the back of his mind, that sounded very much like John's, whispered _”Bit not good.”_

“How many people helped administer the test, was it a taste test, a blood test, a scent based test?” Sherlock's mind was now working full speed, and he fired off his questions at rapid speed.

“Just two, both Betas. Taste and blood test, though we were told the blood test isn't always accurate at least not until she is ten.”

“The taste test is most efficient at a young age.” Sherlock nodded his head and John found himself imagining a five year old Sherlock being given a herb to taste. If he found it bitter and spat it out, he would be branded an Omega for the rest of his life. Bonded Alpha and Omega parents gave birth to either Omegas or Alphas, never Betas, however Beta parents could birth Alphas or Betas. “However, the blood work is kept on file, and on her 18th birthday she’ll be added into the national Omega database.

“So she..” John cleared his throat, “Violet, spat the herb out?” Mrs. Fowler nodded, “and that was, when, exactly?”

“Three days ago. The police refuse to believe that the test has anything to do with the kidnapping, instead they're calling it a case of in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“John, would you be kind enough to phone Lestrade. Ask him for anything he can share about the Fowler’s case. Pictures of the crime scene, especially. Then grab your coat and meet me outside. I'll have a cab waiting.” Sherlock stood, handed Mrs. Fowler her shawl, slipped into his coat and held a hand out for the woman. “Victoria and I will be waiting outside. Please bring your gun, I fear this is going to get…” He paused, finding himself wanting to comfort the other omega, “tricky.”

“Er. Yeah.” John paused slightly while watching Sherlock's figure disappear down the stairs. Had he just _asked_ him to do something? And said please? Knowing now was not the time to stop and think about it, John dialed Lestrade's number and pressed the mobile to his ear as he bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time.

By the time John was sliding into the cab beside Sherlock, Lestrade had finally stopped arguing that it was a private police matter and was agreeing to send the files over.

“Whatever you've got. If you could email me those pictures. We're on our way over now. Sherlock would probably like to compare the scenes.” John nodded and made a few grunts of acknowledgement before hanging up. As he raised his hips off the seat to stuff the mobile back into his pocket he noticed that Sherlock was staring at him.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow abs momentarily wondered if he should ask Sherlock if he was feeling alright.

“That…” One long hand rolled apathetically in the air, “was, what you did. Yeah good.”

“What, asking Greg to email the pictures?” John cocked his head to the side and wondered if it was just the glow from the setting sun, or if Sherlock was blushing.

“Mmm.” Sherlock rumbled, then snapped his head to the side to stare out the window.

“Are,” Mrs. Fowler broke the silence, “you two…” she trailed off, her eyes flicked from Sherlock's scarf covered neck to John. John watched Sherlock out of corner of his eyes, and noticed the way Sherlock straightened up and his hands fiddled with his mobile on his lap.

“Bonded?” Sherlock finished her question, but there was no trace of animosity in his voice. “No. We are both unbound.”

“Forgive me for prying, but how do you share a flat… if…”

“John and I have an understanding. He helps me out with the work, and the bills. But that is it, if that's what you're implying.” His voice was quiet, but he turned to look back out the window indicating that the conversation was over.

The cab carried them through the the darkening streets of London until they reached a upscale gated residential community. They pulled up in front of a pale blue house, John, being the last one out, paid the cabbie and had to hurry to catch up to his partner.

“Where is your husband?” Sherlock asked, as the other Omega unlocked the front door.

“After the police left… He…” Her voice trailed off and her already sad face tightened as a shadow passed over her eyes, “well he’s locked himself in his study. You,” she turned to face them, “are our last hope. I fear if we don’t find our baby, he’ll never be the same.”

“Violet’s room is on the first floor. It was cool last night, so her window was closed.”

“Locked?” Sherlock fell into place beside the other Omega, his eyes flicking from side to side gathering any and all information he could.

“Yes.” Victoria nodded slowly, and opened a door at the far end of the hall, “Victor insisted on an alarm system when we moved in, at the time, I thought it was ridiculous, but now…” She pushed the door open and allowed the men to enter.

What John saw, was a beautifully designed nursery turned bedroom. The walls were painted purple, dragonflies were painted in bright colors, lace curtains, and a bed fit for a princess completed the room. He knew what he saw, versus what Sherlock saw, were completely different, so he stood back and let his partner work. He was lost in thought, watching Sherlock work, when the detective spoke.

“John, check for Lestrade’s email, please.”

“Mm..” John pulled his mobile out of his pocket and growled, “no signal.”

“Oh, come with me, Doctor Watson, Victor has the password for our wifi taped to the modem.”

“Right, Sherlock… don’t run off without me, I don’t have any cash left for a cab ride home, and I don’t fancy walking.” Sherlock simply grunted in answer and continued his inspection of the room. With one last look to Sherlock John followed Victoria out of the room and back down the hall in the direction they’d come, but before returning to the main entrance she turned left and lead him into a small lounge that was littered with toys and stuffed animals. She stepped over to a desk that was positioned in the corner and with shaking hands began pulling at the modem.

“Hey…” John stepped close and placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her whole body trembling. “Sit, please… you’re grieving and exhausted. I can get the password.” Victoria nodded and sat on the nearby sofa, clutching a small stuffed rabbit to her lips. John quickly tapped the password into his mobile and opened his email, setting it down on the desk while it downloaded the images from Lestrade. He knelt down in front of the grieving Omega and placed a hand on her knee.

“Victoria, is your husband upstairs? Should I get him for you?” Every inch of his Alpha instincts told him that the Omega in front of him needed her Alpha to comfort her. It made him angry that she was being mistreated like this, left alone to grieve over the disappearance of her only child.  
  
“Vikki, please, and no… please, just let him be.”

“Right, Vikki.” John looked up into her eyes and fought the urge to brush a tear off her cheek, it wasn’t a sexual urge, but a keening urge to protect and comfort the Omega. “Come on, kitchen, we passed it on the way… you need tea.” He stood, offered a hand to the crying woman, and began to lead her out of the room when she stopped and reached out to the desk, handing him his mobile.

“Mmm, ta.” He pocketed his mobile and wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight as they moved slowly through the house.

“Doctor Watson…”  
  
“John.” The doctor broke in gently, leaning against the worktop.

“John, I just… I want her back,  I want my baby back. Victor and I tried for two years to have her.” John sat her down at a small table in the kitchen and began looking around for the means to make tea, listening as she began talking.

“I miscarried, twice, before Victoria. My Pregnancy with her was difficult, to say the least. I don’t remember labour, but Victor told me that he nearly lost both of us that night. Wouldn’t leave me alone for a week after, insisted on spending every moment with us.” She smiled fondly at the memory and accepted the cup from John. “After a few months, things went back to normal, he started going back to work, I stayed home. We decided that we wouldn’t try again, that more children weren't worth the risk of losing everything we’ve built together. Our family was perfect, just the way it was.”

“Not normal though, for a bonded couple to only have one child.”

“No, something that Victor began hearing more and more from his colleagues. Shortly after Violate turned one, we began getting pressure from his parents, and his coworkers, asking us when baby number two would arrive. Victor told them all, that we were happy, and we didn’t want any more children.” She paused a moment to blow on her tea, staring absently at the far wall, her shoulders hunched. “He got a lot of… drivel. People calling him a tosser, telling him he’d gone soft. That he was the Alpha, and he should put me in my place and breed me. That’s when… that’s when it started.”

“What started?” John asked gently, glancing at his phone to check on the download status.

“The gambling. He took his anger out on cards, began playing poker at the local pubs for fun… but then it became something more.”

John settled into a chair beside Victoria and placed a hand on her forearm. He was just about to offer whatever words of comfort he could think up, when his mobile beeped, telling him the download was done. Before John could get up a low growl came  from behind them; he swiveled in his chair and saw Sherlock lurking in the doorframe a look of feral possessiveness in his eyes.

“Sherlock?” John shot his partner a confused look, but didn’t remove his hand from Victoria’s arm, an act that Sherlock noticed, his nostrils flaring as his eyes fell to John’s hand.

“I require those pictures now. If you can tear yourself away from our client.” Sherlock spun around and headed back down the hall towards the child’s bedroom.

“Right…” His chair scraped across the tile floor as he stood up, but a hand on his arm prevented him from following after Sherlock.

“John…” Vikki’s voice had a edge of warning to it that made John look back at her. “Sherlock, he’s about to have his heat. I can smell it.” John simply nodded, it was a well known fact that Omega’s had a stronger sense of smell than anyone else.  
  
“We’ve worked through it before. He’s on suppressants. Nothing gets in the way of the work.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m simply… he’s going to be aggressive, possessive, clingy, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. You may not be bonded, and may not be in a relationship,” she raised her hands in the air and offered a weak smile, “but living together, your scent will have a particularly strong effect on him. I know you want to comfort me, but that is my husband's job, even if he is unable to do so right now.”

“Unable, or unwilling?” John voiced his opinion before he had a chance to filter his thoughts, Vikki’s sad smile told him it was probably the later, rather than the former. “Sorry…I’ll just be… Sherlock.”

“Yes, go.” She nodded and cupped her mug, returning her gaze to the far wall where a picture of her family hung.

John hurried to follow his friend and by the time he caught up Sherlock was already comparing the pictures against the room. He leaned against the door frame, ensuring he was out of Sherlock’s way, and watched for a few minutes before clearing his throat.

“Can I help? Should I check outside, footprints under the window, scrap of fabric hidden in the bushes?” John shrugged, feeling entirely helpless, and itching to do something to bring the little girl back home.

“Yes, use my mobile, call us a cab. I’m nearly done here.” Sherlock straightened, pulled his mobile out of his pocket and without looking handed it to John. “Wait outside for it. I’ll be out shortly.”

“Er, right.” John nodded curtly and began the walk back down the hall, stopping only to inform Vikki that they were nearly done, and they’d call her with any information. Fifteen minutes later found both of them seated in the back of a cab. Sherlock had his scarf pressed against his nose and a scowl on his face.

“Roll the window down, you stink of _her._ ”

“Sherlock, I don’t _stink._ And all I did was place a hand on her arm! Her twat of an Alpha wasn’t around, and she needed comforting.” John crossed his arms and let out a low rumbling growl. “Can you believe him!? His child missing, wife and Omega distressed, and where was he?! Up in his study, most likely gambling on his computer!”

“Gambling?” Sherlock lowered his scarf, apparently forgetting that he was angry at John.

“Yes!” John didn’t realize it, but he was yelling now, “Victor took up gambling when Violet was a year old! Bloody twat wasn’t man enough to say he was happy with his family, no matter how small it was.” John spent the remainder of their drive back to baker street recounting his conversation with Vikki. Sherlock listened intently as John spoke, eyes closed and fingers steepled under his nose, oblivious to the screech of the breaks when they pulled up at Baker Street.

“Sherlock, we’re home…” John gently took Sherlock’s elbow and after a bit of pulling and prodding got him out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. “I, er, need your wallet, we’ve got to pay the cabbie.”

“Back pocket.”

John spun Sherlock around and slipped his hand into Sherlock’s back, pretending not to notice the tremor that coursed through the detective’s lanky body as his fingers brushed against Sherlock’s backside. He quickly pulled out Sherlock’s wallet and tossed the cabbie a few notes before guiding Sherlock into their flat.

“For god’s sake, go shower. You reek!” Sherlock flopped himself down on the sofa, skilled fingers quickly running up the row of buttons on his shirt, pulling them open. John stood in the middle of their lounge and let his eyes drop to Sherlock’s pale chest. Saliva pooled in his mouth, the hair on the back of his neck prickled and stood on end, and he felt like the idea of turning around and walking away from Sherlock (even just to the shower) was an impossible feat.

“John, I need to think, and having you hover over me like a hungry animal isn't helping. _Especially_ when you smell like another Omega. Now, I repeat, go shower!” There was a hint of a growl in Sherlock’s voice and his lips curled up in a snarl.

“Fine. Just don’t…”

“Leave the flat. Why?” Sherlock opened an eye and regarded John with no small amount of sarcastic curiosity, “Because of my, what… _condition_?”

“No, because I know you. You’ll come up with some half cocked, crazy plan, and spend half the night running around London. And something tells me that whoever took Violet, would just _love_ the chance to get ahold of another unbonded Omega!” John stepped close and pointed a finger in Sherlock’s face. “So, I repeat, _don’t leave the flat without me!_ ”

Without waiting for an answer from the Omega, because face it, Sherlock wouldn’t answer, John spun on his heels and headed up into his room for a change of clothes. On his back through the flat to the bathroom, he noted with a small amount of pride that Sherlock was still sprawled out on the sofa.

After a quick trip up to his room for a change of clothes John noted with some satisfaction that Sherlock was still sprawled out on the sofa, shirt pulled open even more than it was before. John allowed himself one lingering look before continuing on to the bathroom. Leaning over the full shower/tub unit he turned the taps and closed the curtain. While waiting for the water to heat up he stripped out of his clothes and without thinking gave his shirt a sniff. Even the sleeve that had been touching Vikki smelled no different, _to him_ , than the rest of his clothing.

Steam was now billowing out around the curtain, and knowing that Mrs. Hudson hated when they waisted hot water he pulled the curtain open and stepped inside. Damp warm air engulfed him and with the first splash of water against his skin all the anger he felt towards Victory roll off his shoulders and flow down the drain.

As he washed himself, his thoughts turned from that of a neglectful Alpha, to a particularly rosy nipple and alabaster skin. To the Omega, who was lounging on their shared sofa, shirt wide open and those pale fingers running down his chest between his parted shirt. Before John realized what he was doing, he had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he was biting his lips to prevent himself from moaning.

The orgasm was hard and fast, this wasn’t the first time Sherlock had been the center of his fantasies, and his mind knew exactly what to recall in order to ensure a quick orgasm. After he stopped seeing stars he gave himself one last rinse, and turned the taps off. Once dried off and dressed he stepped out into the kitchen and began making tea.

“Sherlock, are you hungry?” Expecting the answer to be no he only grabbed one plate, but smiled when Sherlock didn’t reply with a grumbling no. Knowing the best way to get Sherlock to eat, was to get him to eat off of his plate, John piled on enough leftovers to feed the two of them. Placing everything on a tray he stepped into the lounge where he saw Sherlock on the sofa, legs crossed under his body hunched over his mobile.

“Anything new?” He asked as he settled down beside Sherlock, placing the tra on the coffee table in front of them.

“Perhaps, but it’s all just conjecture at this point.”

“Who are you texting?” John tried not to smile as Sherlock snatched a bit of food off the plate and popped it into his mouth.

“My network. While you were having a wank, I called Victoria and asked to speak to her husband. Turns out he wasn’t home. She didn’t see him leave, so he must have left while she was out with us. I have people searching for him.”

“You think he’s in on it?” John stopped mid bite and looked at Sherlock in surprise.

“I have no idea. I hate not knowing.” Sherlock growled and stood,  but not before stealing a roll off of John’s plate, and began pacing while angrily chewing on the hunk of bread.

“Wait!” John’s mind played back the last few things Sherlock had said to him. “You know I… in the shower?”

“Of course! I can smell it on you.” Sherlock glanced over and rolled his eyes when he saw John sniffing his hand, “at least it smells better than _her_ all over you.”

“Jesus, there’s just no winning with you…” John slumped back against the sofa and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“It’s my fault, really. My, my…” as he paced Sherlock gestured up and down his body, “body has changed. My scent has changed. A beacon, if you will, to Alphas that I’m _ready,_ if _not_ willing. Your body, being close to me, is attuned to my… change. If you think back to my previous heats, you’ll see an increase in your masturbation pattern.”

“Right, well…” John grimaced and put down his half empty mug. “You know it isn’t healthy…being on suppressants this long.”

“Yes, thank you! I understand well enough!” Sherlock snapped, his pale eyes regarding John. Immediately, he felt guilty for snapping at the Alpha. His first instinct was to fall on his knees in front of John and rub his head against the other man’s outstretched legs. Instead he spun around and stared out the window near the fireplace.

“What can I do?”

“Laptop,” Sherlock pointed towards where he’d been sitting where his laptop was now wedged between the cushion and the arm of the sofa, “check my emails, see if anyone has gotten back to me yet.”

Doing as the detective asked, John opened the laptop and logged into Sherlock’s e-mail. After weeding through the cluster of unread mail he shook his head and felt his heart break when Sherlock let out a groan of frustration. For the next two hours, John stayed on e-mail duty, informing Sherlock of any bit of information that came their way while Sherlock paced up and down their lounge. As the clock neared 11, John placed the laptop on the seat next to him and yawning, stood.

“I’m going to bed. My eyes are going cross eyed from staring at the computer for so long. Don’t, er, do anything rash tonight.”

“Mmm…” Sherlock waved a hand in the air and continued his pacing.

“Sleep would do you a world of good, you’re beginning to look like hell. And I mean that affectionately.”

“There’s no time for sleep, John! I have to find the husband!”

With that Sherlock flung himself back onto the sofa, mobile pressed against his ear and shoulder while his fingers began clacking away over the keys.

“Night then.” John rolled his eyes and left the room, wishing he could do more to help Sherlock. But he knew he’d be of no use if he were exhausted. Whoever they were up against had already kidnapped one Omega, what would stop them from taking Sherlock if they got wind of what he was.

Changing into pyjamas he plugged his mobile in and placed it on his nightstand. He didn't work at the clinic on Saturday’s, so not needing to set an alarm he changed and crawled into bed. After a long week at work, he was asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the pillows and didn’t wake up until the first rays of morning light danced across his face. His clock said 8:00am, later than he usually slept, so he rolled out of bed, stuffed his feet into his slippers and hopped that the bathroom would be free.

However, after he shuffled down the stairs and halfway through their flat, John got the feeling that something was wrong. Without paying any heed to his bladder, he quickly ran to the sitting room where the laptop was sitting, still on, on Sherlock’s chair.

“Sherlock?”

No answer. Without a second thought John moved to Sherlock’s bedroom and knocked on the door once.

“Sherlock, are you in there?” again, no answer. “Listen, I’m opening the door.” Normally that would send Sherlock into a tizzy, that man hated it when John let himself into his room, but now John was met with silence. After a quick inspection of the flat, John’s heart sank. Sherlock was gone, without a trace.


	2. The Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a few days early because this weekend is looking like it will be CRAZY busy for me. Most of the story is written, I just need to clean up a few rough edges. :)

**Chapter Two:**

John’s first thought upon discovering Sherlock's absence was:  _ “I need to go find him!”  _ His second,  _ “But where do I start looking?”  _ His final thought before logic took over his panicked thought process was,  _ “I should call Mycroft.” _

It was, John realized, the thought of the older Holmes that had snapped him back from the brink of panic. Things had been relatively slow on Baker Street, which lead John to believe that Mycroft had their security on low alert; meaning Sherlock was not under constant surveillance. And looking at CCTV footage, even for Mycroft, could take hours. So no, Mycroft would be of no immediate use. There of course, was the chance, small as it was, that Sherlock had simply gone for a walk to clear his mind, and if John prematurely got Mycroft involved the detective would be less than pleased.

That much decided, it was with much difficulty that John forced himself to stay put and wait for Sherlock to either come home or contact him. It was with heavy feet, and a heavier heart, that John went about his morning routine. Every quarter of an hour he found himself checking his mobile for any word from the lanky detective. After two hours of waiting, and hearing nothing John  _ had  _ to do something. Grabbing up his mobile he called the number Vicki had given him the night before, she answered on the third ring sounding flustered and out of breath.

“Vikki? Everything alright?”

“Other than Victor showing up twenty minutes ago, drunk out if his mind.”

“Drunk, this early?” John's mind wandered to memories of his sister waltzing in sometime after the sun hard risen, still drunk from her night out. 

“And looking like he'd been in a fight.  He's got a black eye and has scratches all over his body.” Her voice was tight, and John’s heart went out to the poor woman. First her daughter’s disappearance, now her Alpha instead of taking care of her, was probably passed out from his night.

“Christ! Do you want me to come check him over?”

“No… That won't be necessary. He's in bed now, best to just let him sleep it off.”

“Right,” remembering why he’d originally called he cleared his throat, “listen, you haven't seen Sherlock today, have you?” But before Victoria had a chance to respond John’s ears picked up the sound of the front door opening. “Oh, here is is. Listen, if you need anything….”

“Thank you, John.” Though still tight, her voice had a softer edge to it. 

John said his goodbyes and was just placing his mobile in his pocket when Sherlock pushed his way into the lounge. John gave Sherlock one good long look before he exploded. 

“Where the _ hell _ have you been? No note, no text, bed unslept in! A case with a missing Omega, you're just about to have your heat, and you're bloody gone!” John hadn't realized it, but during his outburst of anger he had stalked right up to Sherlock and now had him pinned against the wall between the hall and kitchen doors. His hands were pressed flat against the wall on either side of Sherlock's face and his nose was rubbing over Sherlock's neck. He inhaled deeply, and instead of Sherlock's scent calming him down like his instincts expected, he pulled away and growled darkly. 

“Why the  _ fuck _ do you smell like blood, cheap booze, cigarettes, and….” he added with a snarl, “Alpha? And what the hell is this!” John sniffed and the smell of blood got stronger. He lifted up one of the curls that had flopped over Sherlock's forehead, it had been covering a 3 inch gash that ran from his eyebrow to his ear. Upon further inspection John saw multiple bruises, and what looked like a shallow bite mark just above Sherlock's bonding spot. 

“Shit… Are you alright?” As he spoke John roughly ushered Sherlock into the kitchen and pushed him down into one of the chairs before retrieving his medical kit from the bathroom. Crouching in front of Sherlock he pulled out a wad of cotton, soaked it in rubbing alcohol and held it up to Sherlock’s eye level with a bit of a cringe on his face. “This  is going to sting.” 

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes. As John applied the cotton to the gash over his eyebrow he sucked in a sharp breath and hissed through clenched teeth, but sat still as John continued to clean the cut. The gash was shallow but ragged and upon a closer inspection John saw that it had been made by a fingernail. Dragging his eyes over the rest of Sherlock, he tended to the small collection of the scratches that littered his forearms and neck and sat back with a sigh. Each and every mark on Sherlock screamed fight, and in it appeared Sherlock had been on the defense. 

“Who did this…” But before the words were even out of John’s mouth he knew the answer. “Victor…” 

“I gather that was Victoria you were on the phone with just then?” 

“Mmm.. John nodded and closed up his medical kit “Are you going to tell me the story, or leave me guessing?” The anger in John’s voice was now replaced with concern and he was now setting about making tea just for something to do, and the smell of the other Alpha on Sherlock was making him  nauseated.

“Yes, but… after I shower. Is that... alright?” Sherlock, still sitting where John had placed him, looked up at John. His shoulders were slumped in submission, and he looked exhausted. John, try as he might, couldn’t recall Sherlock ever asking him for permission for  _ anything _ before. John simply nodded and pulled out two mugs, tossing a tea bag into each.

By the time Sherlock rejoined him, now wearing pajamas, their tea was ready and John was sitting in his chair. Sherlock joined him, sitting cross legged in his chair and cradled his mug in his hands. Despite the cluster of questions that were attempting to burn their way out of John’s mind, the doctor remained silent, waiting for Sherlock to speak when he was ready.  Time ticked by and their tea had gone cold by the time Sherlock began to speak.

“After you had your…  _ talk _ … with Victoria, thus discovering her husband's gambling habit, I had my network searching for whatever bar or gambling hall he’d locked himself away in. After you had gone to bed, I’d nearly given up hope that we’d find him that night. However, around 11 I received a text with the location of the gambling hall that Mr. Fowler had decided to grace with his presence. My guess that he wasn’t even home while we were searching their house proved to be accurate.” Sherlock paused, his eyes not quite meeting John’s, and he pulled at his shirt as if the old baggy t-shirt was too tight.

“So you decided to go check it out?”  John kept his voice low and did his best to keep emotion out of it.

“Mmm. I almost woke you,” a ghost of a smile crossed over Sherlock’s lips before it disappeared as he continued speaking, but figuring it to be nothing more than a quick stake out, I didn’t see the point. I had no intention of engaging with anyone. However, when I got there… the place was more than just…” John watched as Sherlock’s body gave an involuntary shudder and despite himself he got up and draped the blanket from the back of his chair over Sherlock’s shoulders. 

“It was a brothel, of sorts. However the Omega’s  _ providing services, _ were not doing so willingly. Half of them were drugged, unconscious, or sick, but those bastards didn’t care. Victor was there, playing cards at one of the tables, not partaking in any of the carnal affairs, but…”

“He wasn’t… stopping it.” John nodded as understanding flooded over him.

“No… nothing.”  Dark curls bounced as Sherlock shook his head. “That’s when… I don’t know why… I should have just left, but I confronted him. When I told him that his wife, his Omega, needed him during her time of grief, he grew hostile. We began exchanging blows and I found myself,” Sherlock let out a disgusted growl, “weakened by the pheromones coming off of the Alpha. My body, aided by my impending heat, gave my status away… I nearly didn’t make it out of there.” 

Sherlock shrugged, and finally met John’s gaze, John’s deep blue eyes looking at him unwaveringly. He rolled his empty mug around in hands then leaned back against his chair, thoroughly exhausted and waiting for the moment he could delete the night’s events. 

“Sherlock…. Did they…” John’s voice gave away his panic as he leaned forward in his chair, inching his way closer to Sherlock while still giving the man his space.

“Rape me?” Sherlock’s uninjured eyebrow raised and he shook his head. “Not for lack of trying…” 

“Right…” Nodding, John remained where he was,hands clasped in front of him with his arms resting on his knees. “So, what are we up against here? Smuggling, sex trade, drugs? All the above?” 

“I’m not sure…” Sherlock slumped back and clutched at the blanket before shouting, “I need to think!” 

“No, you need sleep! You’ve run yourself ragged, and your suppressants are making you even more exhausted, if we are up against something more than a simple kidnapping, I need you at your best. Victoria needs you at you best, and so doesn’t little Violet” John stood, and held a hand out to Sherlock, “up you come, and right to bed with you!” 

“No, not bed… I…” Sherlock blushed a little and averted his eyes, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sofa then.” John guided Sherlock to the sofa then retrieved a pillow and duvet from Sherlock’s bed and made him as comfortable as he could in their bright lounge. As he bent low to tuck the duvet around Sherlock’s shoulders John got a whiff of Omega and he had the sudden urge to press a comforting kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. But, before he gave into his temptation he made to step away, only to paused when Sherlock spoke.

“John, could you do something for me?” 

John felt a tingle run down his spine, and for a brief moment he imagined that Sherlock was going to ask him to bond and he tried not to show his disappointment when Sherlock spoke again.   
  
“Call Victoria, and when Victor awakes, have her call us. Tell her, he must not leave the house before we get there!” 

John nodded slowly and noticed how immediately Sherlock's face relaxed. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, and he no longer looked scared. Without thinking he cupped his hand around Sherlock's forehead and gently ran his thumb over the gash. Sherlock let out the faintest of hums at the attention, and even nuzzled his head into John's palm a little. 

“I'll call her, just get some rest, alright?” 

“Mmm…” a half asleep Sherlock mumbled. “You're a good Alpha…” Before he could stop himself, John bent over low, and pressed his lips against Sherlock's forehead in a gentle kiss. If Sherlock noticed, he said nothing, but simply burrowed down into the nest of blankets John had provided for him

It might have just been his imagination, but John thought he heard a soft purring noise rumbling in Sherlock's chest as the detective fell asleep. Before straightening up he gave into his Alpha urges once more and tucked the blankets more tightly around Sherlock's shoulders. 

Once Sherlock was sleeping soundly John called Victoria and relayed Sherlock's request. After getting her word that she would do to her best to keep her husband at home John paced about the kitchen unsure of what to do. He had planned on spending the afternoon catching up on laundry and other errands, but every time he thought to leave the flat he began to panic. It wasn't until he recalled Sherlock saying he didn't want to be alone, that he understood why.  His Alpha instincts were telling him to stay, to protect, to take care of the distressed Omega sleeping on the sofa. 

So instead of going out and getting the shopping done, John found himself wanting his gun near,  _ just in case _ , so he ran up to his room and tucked his gun into his trousers up against the small of his back, then set about tidying the flat. While Sherlock slept, he got the kitchen cleaned, the floor swept, the bathroom cleaned, and he had most of his blog typed up.  _ The Hounds of Baskerville  _ he decided to call it, knowing full well Sherlock would grumble about the title later. He had just put his blog aside to find something to make for an early dinner, when he heard shuffling coming from the lounge. 

“John, may I have some tea?” He turned around in time to see a duvet covered Sherlock pull a chair out and plop down. Sherlock dug the heels of his hands into his eyes then rested his head on his folders arms. John smiled warmly at the pliant detective and nodded. 

“I was just about to put the kettle on.” John turned back to the fridge and began pulling out random veggies and a package of chicken out of the fridge. He piled it all up on the worktop then leaned over to flick the kettle on. Sherlock watched from his post at the table as John began making them a stir fry.  When Sherlock spoke, it was with such a soft voice that John had to stop chopping the pepper to hear.

“I like watching you cook.”

“Mmm?” John didn't turn around, but Sherlock saw the blush that painted the back of John's neck. 

“It's calming.” Sherlock propped his elbows up on the table, and rested his head on his hands. John just smiled at him then continued cooking; they lapsed into silence until the kettle boiled. Without John asking him too, Sherlock got up and made them each a mug of tea. They ate until they were stuffed before moving to sit in their chairs. Sherlock let out a groan and patted his stomach.

“I don't think I've ever seen you eat that much.” John let out a soft chuckle while watching his friend. 

“Normally, the suppressants curb my appetite.” Sherlock offered a little shrug and almost looked embarrassed. “I… didn't take them today, it was too late by the time I got in.” Sherlock opened his mouth, and for a second John thought he was about to say something more, but whatever he was going to say was lost against the shrill sound of John's mobile. 

“Victoria.” John said as he held up the phone for Sherlock to see. 

“Her  _ Alpha _ will be awake then…” Sherlock snarled as he stood and strode off towards his bedroom. True to Sherlock's prediction Victoria informed John that Victor, while suffering from a hangover, was awake; John thanked her and told her that they would be over shortly. John was just pocketing his mobile when Sherlock stepped back into the room dressed in one of his posh suits, the top three buttons of his shirt still undone. 

“John, I need you to bite me.”

“I'm sorry, what? I could have sworn that you just asked me to bite you.” John stared at Sherlock with a dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, did I mumble?” Sherlock regarded John with a cool expression as he tugged at his collar to reveal more if his neck. 

“You.. Want me, to bite you?” The doctor’s mind went a bit hazy as Sherlock tilted his neck, revealing his scent gland to the Alpha. John took one step closer to the Omega and his vision went spotty. Sherlock’s own personal scent had never been this strong before. He always hid what little of his scent the suppressants left behind a layer of cologne. Now, being this close, smelling Sherlock, John’s mouth began to water and the instinct to bite and bond was his first and foremost thought. 

“Yes, John!” Sherlock rolled his eyes and glared at him. “Clearly, being an unbound Omega has its… drawbacks.” Sherlock screwed up his face like he’d just taken a bite out of a lemon then arched his neck again. “So, I repeat, I need you to bite me, or do I need to go find another Alpha who’s willing to protect me?”

  
“Oi! Don’t be a fucking git, Sherlock! This isn’t something to just randomly decide! If we bond, right now, that gives us 72 hours before the bite causes you to go into heat, suppressants or not! And you’re in the middle of a case!” Despite his argument, John’s body screamed for him to step forward, to claim Sherlock.

“So you’re only qualm about… bonding is the fact that we’re in the middle of a case?” Sherlock arched his good eyebrow and held his ground.

“Well... “ John shrugged and gave Sherlock a half smile. “Listen, if I said that I’ve never thought about bonding with you, well, I’d be lying. But, Sherlock, if we bond I need to know what to expect.” John scrubbed a hand over his face as he sank down into his chair and sighed.

“Would we have a relationship, share heats, would I be able to kiss you, or touch you? Or would nothing change, other than…” John gestured up to Sherlock’s neck, “a bite?” 

As John spoke, Sherlock sank to his knees in front of him and placed both hands on John’s thighs, looking up at him with his pale blue eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking, the only movement in the room came from Sherlock’s thumbs that were moving in slow circles on the insides of John’s legs.

“John,” Sherlock began in a low but clear voice, “I won't lie to you, and tell you that we’ll live happily ever after. You, of all people know me, and bonding won't change  _ who _ I am. That being said, if we take things slow… a relationship  _ could  _ be nice. I found that I quite enjoyed your, er, attentions earlier. Especially when you kissed my forehead.” He gave John a shy smile and inched his face a tiny bit closer. 

“Sherlock....” his name escaped John’s lips in a whisper as the Doctor placed a hand gently around Sherlock’s neck, brushing his thumb over the scent gland. 

“John, I’ve thought about it, about this, since the moment you moved in. Since our chat that first night. Now, faced with an Alpha who has already tried to bite me once, I find the prospect of being  _ willingly _ bound ideal. I know you won't abuse me, or your position as my Alpha.”

“Of course I won't abuse you, Sherlock! But… 72 hours, and then we’ll both be locked away here, in the flat.” a slight blush tinted John’s cheeks as he brushed his thumbs over Sherlock’s jaw, “We’ll have to consummate our bond or my bite will mean nothing.” Instead of shying away or looking disgusted Sherlock simply nodded.

“Sherlock, that means…”

“Sex, John. I know what it means.” 

“Sherlock…” John breathed, looking down at the beautiful man who was kneeling so subserviently between his legs. This was sudden, even for them. How many times had Sherlock stomped around the flat cursing his biology, or snarled at couples in love as they passed by. And now, here was was, asking for John to bond with him. For safety, yes, but John knew that Sherlock must know what else came with a bond, beyond consummating it. 

They would, if the bond was strong, share emotions. They would know when the other was hurt. If something were to happen to John, Sherlock’s body would go into shock, and would he would be forced into a period of grieving that could kill him. And, once bound, Sherlock would have little say legally over himself, everything would be processed through his Alpha.

“John.” Sherlock looked up at him unblinkingly. “Please. This isn’t something I’m asking on a whim. I was in danger this morning, I was at risk of having a bond forced upon me, of being nothing more than some Alpha’s personal sex toy. Being bound to you, in all of its aspects, is far more appealing.”

“I had pictured it to be a bit more… romantic.” John smiled down at Sherlock and cupped his face with both hands. “Not just a quick bite, then off to save the world while we wait for your heat.”

“So… you’ll do it then?” Sherlock looked hopeful. Far more hopeful than John had ever dreamed could be possible. 

“Sherlock…” John began, but his smile gave him away. Of  _ course _ he would bond with Sherlock. Since the moment he met Sherlock, he’d known that there wasn’t another Omega he’d want to bond with. Sherlock’s shoulders, which had been tense in anticipation relaxed and he leaned against John’s hands. 

“Yes, but not like this, not with you dressed like that. I won't have you complaining about me ruining one of your suits.” With that, John gently tugged on Sherlock’s head until Sherlock understood and rose to his feet, John following seconds after. 

They stood, chest to chest so close that they could see their own faces reflected in the other’s eyes. John quirked one eyebrow up in a silent question as his hands gently pulled at Sherlock’s shirt; Sherlock gave a small, shy nod and began helping John with the remaining buttons.

Soon John had Sherlock standing before him, naked from the waist up, with what John would later recall as, “The most gorgeous blush,” decorating Sherlock’s face and neck. John took a moment to run his hands over Sherlock’s smooth chest before cupping his face.

“I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?” His lips were so close to Sherlock’s that they brushed against Sherlock’s lips as he spoke. 

“Yes.” Sherlock’s one word answer seemed to wrap around John, reeling him in impossibly closer. As John’s lips pressed against his, Sherlock let out a low purr and gently wrapped his hands around John’s hips. The kiss ignited sparks inside Sherlock’s belly, and Sherlock found himself craving more. He’d never in his life even as much as desired for another’s touch, but now with John’s lips on his he could think of nothing else than  _ John.  _ He wanted John everywhere, in him, on him, his hand’s lips, mouth. His entire body was now screaming for John, for  _ his Alpha. _   
  
“John…” What Sherlock had intended to be a soft plea, came out as a broken cry as John’s left hand slid down his neck. 

“Shh…” John kissed Sherlock’s chin before he pulled away with a grin. “I’ve got you.” John took his time and kissed his way down Sherlock’s neck. “This… is going to hurt.” 

“I’m well aware.” Sherlock’s voice rumbled throughout John’s body and sparked the most primal of urges inside the doctor. Without giving it a second thought, John growled and surged forward. 

His teeth found the scent gland and his jaw automatically clamped down. Instead of pulling away from the pain, Sherlock tightened his grip on John’s hips and pulled him close. John’s teeth broke skin, and the taste of copper, and of Sherlock, filled his mouth. From there John's instincts took over, he had always wondered what it would be like, if he would know when to let go, but in reality it was as if this was the very moment he’d trained his whole life for. 

With one hand still cupped around Sherlock's neck his left hand began trailing over Sherlock’s back, memorizing the curve of his spine. Seconds went by and neither of them moved until John noticed that a small amount of blood was beginning to trickle down over Sherlock's shoulder. As gently as he could he loosened his jaw and began licking at the wound. Sherlock stood, neck tilted, and waited patiently as his Alpha licked away the blood. 

They were both painfully aware of each other's erections, Sherlock’s pressed against the soft flesh of John’s stomach, while John's pressed against Sherlock's thigh. They both came to the silent agreement that later, when they had more time, they would take care of the more  _ physical  _ needs of their new agreement. But for now, they needed to focus on The Work. 

“There…” John whispered as he stepped back and inspected the bite with dark eyes. “Mine.” 

“Yours.” Sherlock's voice was deep and husky as he rolled his neck around.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” John brushed his index finger in a circle around the bite mark. Despite his Alpha half feeling rather proud of the bite, his Doctor side needed to ensure that his friend wasn't hurt. Sherlock rolled his neck around as if testing it, then nodded. 

“Quite alright. Thank you.” Sherlock allowed himself one small fleeting affectionate smile before gathering his clothes off the floor. John rushed forward and began helping Sherlock with his shirt and suit jacket before he realized what he was doing and stepped back with a muttered apology. 

“Please, John. Don't apologize, this is new to both of us.” He tucked in his shirt, took the suit jacket out of John’s hands and shrugged into it. With three long strides he walked the length of the lounge and within seconds was in his customary coat and scarf. Tossing John his jacket he nodded towards the door, “shall we?”

A short while later found them stepping out of the back of a cab and walking up the stone path that lead to the Fowler's cottage. As they stepped up the the door John put his hand on Sherlock's elbow. 

“Sherlock, he’s already attacked you once today, now smelling me on you….”

“There is a 87% chance he may be even more aggressive.”

“Something like that. Just, stay behind me, until we assess the situation.” When Sherlock grimaced and looked like he was about to argue John points a finger at Sherlock, “Oi, you wanted protection, so you're getting it. Either let me go first, or I'm dragging you back home. Do you understand?”

“If you think for a second, that I’ll listen to you now…”

“Then give me the  _ illusion  _ of control.” John interrupted and gave Sherlock his ‘I'm being serious’ look. Sherlock rolled his eyes but allowed John to step in front of him. Just as John raised his hands to knock on the door a loud clatter and shouting came from inside the house. John automatically stuck his hand out to stop Sherlock from rushing forward and pulled out his gun. 

“Take the back, mobile ready in case we need to call Lestrade.” John hissed, jerking his head to the stone path that lead around the house. “And take this!” Pressing the gun into Sherlock’s hand he ignored the look of surprise on his Omega’s face as he gently pushed him away.

Sherlock’s surprise undoubtedly came from John’s  _ seemingly _ apathetic behaviour over sending his new Omega into what could very well be a dangerous situation. And as he stepped around the corner Sherlock smiled to himself. As his mind wandered, his fingers absentmindedly checked that the safety was off and the gun was ready for use. John had just proven, to the both of them, that the dynamic of their relationship hadn’t changed.  _ Much. _

Normally John wouldn’t give up his gun for anything, instead he would follow behind his reckless detective and provide backup. But now, his first thought had been that Sherlock should have the gun, for protection, as he wouldn’t be there to provide it, and for some reason that made Sherlock feel ecstatic, like he was on cloud nine. 

  
John watched as Sherlock slipped around the side of the house and fought the urge to follow him, to ensure he was safe, and stayed safe. Instead he raised his hand to knock on the front door only to find it open. He toed the door open and looked around. There was a jacket draped over the railing on the staircase and a pair of shoes that looked like they’d been thrown in anger. John knew he didn’t have the power of deduction quite like Sherlock, but he knew by the way things looked that Victor had been trying to leave. The fight was (most likely) over being told by his Omega that he wasn’t allowed to leave  _ his _ house.

“Hello? Victoria?” John called out and suddenly felt naked without his gun. The only noise in the house came from the back, where John knew the kitchen was located. Heading in that direction, he again heard yelling, but this time he was able to make out that it was a man yelling.

“So what? Won't let me,  _ your ALPHA,  _ touch you? But I come home the fucking day after our daughter disappears, and you reek of another Alpha?” 

“Calm down, Victor, it isn’t like that!” Vikki’s voice was high and pleading then there was a sickening thud, a sound John knew well enough, the sound of a fist hitting skin followed by a soft whimpering. “Victor, please…” 

“Oh, stop your begging! You brought him into  _ my _ house! You know I wouldn’t be home!” 

“Actually, she thought you were in your study.” John growled and stepped into the kitchen. Victor had his Omega pinned against the counter, his hands gripping her forearms so hard his knuckles were white.

“Why don’t you… just step aside, and let me help find your daughter.” John dropped his shoulders held up his hands and attempted to appear as un-intimidating as he possibly could. Despite his best attempt at appearing submissive in another Alpha’s home, John soon saw that Victor was already too riled up.

“You… You’re the bastard I smelled on her, and on that exotic piece of arse.” Victor snarled and pushed Victoria aside, the movement causing her to wildly reach out for the worktop. She let out a sharp cry of pain as her arm collided with a knife sticking out of the sink. Before John was able to go to her aid to assess the cut, Victor was on him, snarling in his ear. “What game are you playing at? Scenting an Omega, refusing to bond with him, all while cozying up to another Omega!”

“That exotic piece of arse, as you so  _ wonderfully _ put it, is Sherlock Holmes, the man who is doing everything in his power to find your daughter!” As Victor advanced, John took a few steps back until the wall was less than an arm’s length away. Knowing he would have little chance, being pinned against the wall by a man who easily had 12.7 centimeters on him he sidestepped, putting Victor against the wall.

“I didn't ask for his help,  _ or _ yours!” the angry Alpha only grew more hostile, knowing he’d been duped into giving the intruder the advantage. 

“But  _ she _ did!” John growled, thrusting a finger in the direction of Vikki, who had just stepped outside, out of the way of the brawling Alphas. 

“She’s just an Omega! She has no right, spending my money on some crack pot detective!”

“ _ Just _ an Omega?” John’s lip curled up in a snarl and his nose twitched in anger, “It’s people like you, who… ooouufff!” the rest of John’s sentence was cut short as Victor dove at him, his shoulder hitting John square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Instead of the reaction Victor had been hoping for, John regained his composure and straightened up.

“You  _ really _ shouldn’t have done that.” John made a show of straightening his shirt and rolling up his sleeves before giving Victor a good hard look. Yes he was short, but he had tactical training on his side, and he had been short his whole life, he’d learned to adapt.  Victor was tall, and he favored his left side. Someone, Sherlock most likely, had left a bruise on his left clavicle, and judging by the angry blue-green coloring, John guessed it was broken.

Using that as a point of first contact, John charged. His fist came in contact with the existing bruise and the other Alpha roared in pain and staggered back. John used this window of opportunity to grab Victor’s left hand, stepping behind him he pinched the nerve in Victor’s hand and twisted while snaking his other arm around Victor’s neck. 

“That…  _ piece of arse _ is  _ my _ Omega. And if you think I don’t know what you tried to do to him this morning, you are mistaken. Do  _ not ever  _ touch him again. Nod if you understand.” John’s voice was deathly cold as he hissed into Victor’s ear. When Victor didn’t nod John clamped his mouth over his carotid artery, where the bond bite would be if he were an Omega, and bit down hard enough for it to hurt, and only then did the Alpha nod.

Sherlock was startled out of his thoughts by a high pitched scream, clearly Victoria’s, and the clear sounds of a scuffle. Quickening his step he reached the back door just in time to see it fly open as Victoria pushed her way out into the back garden. 

“Hurry! Before he hurts him!” She was panting, and clutching at a wound on her arm where blood was oozing between her fingers. She saw Sherlock’s hesitate, unsure if he should help her, or rush into whatever madness was going on in the house, but she answered for him. “Go! I’m fine, just a cut!”

Rushing into the house Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the kitchen. John, his short but sturdy blogger, had Victor, a much taller Alpha, in a headlock and he had his teeth clamped threateningly over his Carotid artery. Sherlock let out a low chuckle and allowed himself to feel a small bit of pride at his choice for a mate, clearly there was more to John Watson than he’d already discovered. John looked at him and smiled proudly before his expression changed and he tried to hide his smile. It was only then, that Sherlock realized he was purring in pleasure at the display of dominance from his Alpha. 

“Not good?” He arched his good eyebrow and regarded John curiously. 

“I dunno,” John shrugged as he pinched a nerve in Victor’s shoulder and forced the man into a chair. “I rather enjoyed it. How about you, Victor? Did you enjoy it? Hmm?” When there was no answer, save a glare from the weaker Alpha, John just shrugged again. “Well, Sherlock, he’s all yours. I think he knows better than to touch you.” 

“Thank you, John.” With his head held high, Sherlock stuffed John’s gun down his trousers at the small of his back and stepped a few paces closer to Victor. “Despite her assurance that she’s fine, I do believe Victoria requires medical attention.” 

“Right…” John nodded then looked around and Sherlock instantly knew he was looking for a first aid kit.

“Under the sink, left side.” 

John gave Sherlock a curt nod then squeezed Victor’s shoulder hard, causing the Alpha to grunt in pain. Feeling that his point had been made, John let go with a growl and went to retrieve the first aid kit just as Victoria timidly stepped back into the house. John managed to talk her into looking at the cut, and soon they were standing beside the sink together. John guided her arm under the water and grimaced when he saw the wound.

“You should get stitches” Victoria shook her head and pursed her lips. Being a bound Omega, if she were to go to the A&E her Alpha would be required to be present before she received any medical attention, and right now it seemed like Victoria wanted nothing to do with her husband. 

“Do you have butterfly bandages? That will do the trick for now?” John’s voice was gentle and despite his back being turned to the rest of the room, he knew that both Sherlock and Victor were watching him intently. 

“In the kit. Violate fell a few months back, scraped her knee.” 

In a matter of minutes John had the cut cleaned and bandaged and he nodded his head approvingly. He helped  Victoria clean up the mess they’d created, then turned around to face his new Omega, expecting to see Sherlock displaying signs of jealousy. Instead, he found Sherlock smiling softly at him, at the way he’d treated the injured Omega, at how he hadn’t forced his opinion upon her.  John allowed himself to smile back at his mate before clearing his throat and breaking the spell.

“So, Victor, does your wife know what you’ve been up to? Where you’ve been?” John leaned his back against the worktop and quirked an eyebrow at the other Alpha. “ _ Who _ you’ve been with?”

“I haven’t  _ been _ with anyone!” Victor snarled and started to get out of his chair, but when John took one step forward he sat back down and growled.

“Not for lack of trying, or so I hear.” John held his ground and sneered down at the man. “Sherlock had a rather interesting story to tell this morning. Said you tried to bond with him. Do you know what that would have done to Victoria? A second bond, would force your current Omega to begin rejecting your bond. Only, her body wouldn’t fully reject it, you see, she would stay  _ yours _ , in a manner of speaking, but she would become distressed and sickly. It isn’t natural for an Omega to have to share her Alpha, you see.” 

“Then you shouldn’t let your bitch out in public! Especially when he’ll be flaunting himself around a bunch of -”   
  
“A bunch of  _ what _ exactly, Victor? Worthless scum?” John growled and stepped even closer, so close that Victor had to tilt his head back to meet John’s gaze. “My Omega is free to go where he wants, when he wants. That’s why it is called a partnership! He’s not my servant.” John rolled his eyes and gave a disgusted growl. “Sherlock, darling, interrogate this bastard and let’s go. Just his smell is making me sick.” 

“Making  _ you _ sick?” Sherlock snorted and glanced at Victor, “He’s making me want to vomit. Victoria, why did you stay with him?”

“He... “ she began with a sad voice, “we used to love each other. We used to be mates.” 

John nodded and looked over at Sherlock, he already considered Sherlock his mate, a term that only the most closely bound Omega/Alpha pair used to describe themselves. 

“But then, he changed… the gambling.” 

Victor let out a loud snarl and Victoria gave a little squeak before falling silent. Realizing that she was too scared to continue, Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and spoke with an air of superiority. 

“Mr. Fowler, let me tell you a story, one that I’m sure you’ll find  _ very _ interesting. Five year sago, there was a small, but happy family. They had just welcomed a beautiful little girl into their fold, and for a while the family remained happy.    
  
“But the, the father, an Alpha, began letting snide comments about his family get to him. You see, they had decided as a couple that they were happier with one child, than risking the lives of both mother and child with another pregnancy. 

“And being the good Alpha that he was, instead of taking his frustration out on his family, he began to gamble away his anger. And it worked, at least at first it did. You see, this father was struck with what is known as ‘beginner's luck’ and the rush that came from winning made him forget his anger. But then!” Sherlock’s voice became dramatic as he continued, “he began losing, by a lot, if I have my facts straight

“He ended up owing so much, that he was told he’d be unable to step foot inside his favourite haunt until he’d paid off his debt.” Sherlock began pacing, arms folded behind his back as he dramatically pieced together Victor’s downfall.

“And our Alpha just  _ couldn’t _ let that happen. So, he went to a loan shark and thus was able to pay off his debt to the gambling hall. Knowing he still had to pay off the loan sharks, he continued to gamble, waiting for that big payout. He’d win some, and lose some, and when his debt became too great, he would return to the loan shark. This pattern went on for years…” Sherlock sniffed and spun on his heels, now facing Victor. 

“Let’s fast forward through the years, through this pattern of borrowing from Paul to pay off Pete.” Fixing his gaze on the sitting Alpha and ignoring the low rumbling snarl that Victor gave him, he continued, this time directing his speech at Victor, “You payment to the loan shark was past due, I imagine they were threatening to harm your family, as is bound to happen. Somehow, whether or not you told them or they found out themselves, they discovered that little Violet had recently been declared an Omega.”

Victor growled and began to rise out of his chair, but with two long strides John resumed his post behind the Alpha and pushed him back down into the chair, this time leaving his hands on Victor’s shoulders.

“What I haven’t been able to figure out, Victor, is exactly  _ how _ they blackmailed you. An Alpha won't willingly hand his child over to a group of predators, no matter how much he’s in debt.” Sherlock ignored Victoria’s gasp of shock, but flicked his eyes up to John just in time to see the disgust wash over John’s face as he caught on. “Did they steal her, Victor, or did you sell your daughter to pay off your debt?” 

“How  _ DARE  _ you!” Victor roared and forced himself out of John’s grip. He was fast, but John was faster, and the short sandy haired man managed to place himself between his detective and the angry Alpha before Victor had a chance to act. 

“I would never sell my daughter, how could you even think that!” Victor raised a fist and looked like he was about to throw a punch, either at John or at Sherlock, but Victoria surged forward and grabbed his arm.

“Then tell us what happened, all I want is my family back…” her voice was soft and pleading and when Victor looked down into her tear stained face he wrapped his arm around his wife and began sobbing against her shoulder. At this sudden change in mood, John looked at Sherlock and tilted his head in a silent question, but Sherlock looked just as confused as he felt. 

“Vikki, I swear, I didn’t… they…” Victor was sobbing so hard that his words were hardly understandable.“ 

For a moment it looked like Victoria was about to throw her arms around her husband and comfort him, but instead, with great personal effort, she pushed him away and moved so the table was between herself and her Alpha.

“Then, Victor,” she said in a cool voice, “what happened? Where is  _ my _ daughter?”

John watched the couple with morbid interest. Victoria had not only distanced herself from her Alpha, but had called Violet  _ her _ daughter. For an Omega to be able to deny ownership over her child spoke of her strength. While waiting to see if Victor would reply, he glanced over at Sherlock who was watching to couple with rapt interest and found himself wondering what life would be like with the detective now that they’d bonded.

Would he become jealous or distressed if Sherlock wasn’t warm and affectionate towards him? Or would he be happy enough knowing that Sherlock was safe, and that he was being allowed to continue to share The Work with him? Before he was able to ponder this line of thought further Victor gave a defeated sigh and spoke.

“Vikki, they threatened me. They were going to kill me if I didn’t pay. I owed them £10,000.”

“Who.” Victoria crossed her arms, but John noticed how her whole body was shaking.

“The loan sharks. Vikki, I swear, I don’t know how they found out about Vi…” The despair in Victor’s voice was genuine, and it tore at John’s heart. For his part, Victor looked the part of a man who was grieving for his daughter, not that of a man who had sold his daughter off.

“Then where is she?” Victoria’s voice was cold and had a hit of steel to it, but she lowered her arms.

“I don’t know Vikki… I don’t know… Last night, I was trying to win enough money to pay off McCoy, the loan shark, to demand her back… Babe, I’m, I’m sorry…” Victor slumped back in the chair and buried his hands in his face. For a long while the room was silent, aside from the Alpha’s labored breathing, and John was just about to catch Sherlock’s attention when Victoria timidly closed the space between herself and her Alpha, falling to her knees in front of his chair, clasping his hands in hers. 

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was soft, so soft that John almost didn’t recognize it as Sherlock’s. He looked up to see Sherlock tear his eyes off of the couple and nod to the door. Together they silently left the couple to work out the rest of their domestic on their own. Once outside in the cold winter air, Sherlock forced a breath through his nose and John watched as the moisture in his breath crystallized in mid air. 

“Well, he’s an arsehole…” Sherlock growled, not even bothering to hide his anger.

“Yes, but where is Violet?” John quickened his pace and fell into his usual spot by Sherlock’s side.

“I have… 4 possible ideas.” Sherlock tightened his scarf around his neck and lead the way through the housing complex towards the road, “And they all start at the Hospital.”

“Where Violet was tested?” John rolled his eyes at the ease with which Sherlock was able to hail a cab, but was grateful for the warmth the car provided. 

“The one and the same.” Sherlock smiled at John, clearly pleased that his blogger was keeping up with him and gave the cabby the address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments on the previous chapter, I appreciate each and every one of you!


	3. Tests, Brothers and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of shameless smut in this chapter. Just as a warning.

 

As John followed Sherlock through the maze of halls he couldn't help feeling a tiny bit awkward. Unlike at Bart's, no one in this facility knew them. (Aside from the few who had recognized Sherlock without 'his' hat.)He followed Sherlock into the lift and let out a sigh as the doors closed, proving them a shield from curious eyes.    
  
"Bit different from Bart's." He said as he leaned against the back wall and watched as Sherlock transferred his gun from the small of his back to the front of his trousers.    
  
"Mm. Yes, well this one is not a teaching hospital." Sherlock replied absently as he watched the floors tick past.    
  
"Not what I meant." But before he could voice what he had meant the doors slid open with a ding and he had to rush to keep up with Sherlock. It always amazed him, how Sherlock could glance at a map of a place for a mere second and know, with utmost confidence, where he was going. 

John, ever the patient and long suffering companion, followed the detective through the twists and turns of the halls until he found themselves in the lab. 

The lab proved to be smaller than the one at Bart’s and when they opened the door, instead of being greeted with the hustle and bustle of students, they were greeted by a surprised woman who was bent over the worktop. One sniff told John she was a Beta, and after the display of emotions back at the Fowler's residence, he was glad of this. 

“Can I help you?” Her cold voice rang out in the quiet room and John couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. Sherlock, instead, simply pushed coat back and stuck his hands into his trouser pockets, allowing the hilt of the gun to just barely show. 

“McCoy sent us.” Sherlock leaned, as if bored, against one of the tables and held the woman's gaze. 

“I gave him everything he asked for!” A hint of panic flickered through her voice and her left hand clenched around a clipboard. 

“Yes, and he was so impressed that he wants you to do it again.”

John didn't know what  _ it _ was, but he didn't let his confusion show as he moved deeper into the room. His movements caused the Beta to look up and swallow nervously and after a moment she looked backed to Sherlock, her eyes settling on the gun. 

“For the same price?” Her voice was not that of a person who had been forced into something unwillingly. Instead of was resigned, almost hopeful and her shoulders relaxed. Sherlock swept his eyes over the woman, then nodded. 

“Same fee for the next one, depending on how smoothly it goes, he might consider a new arrangement.”

John's brain was trying its hardest to catch up and to follow the conversation, he didn't quite know what part this Beta had played in the disappearance or Violet, but he had his suspicions, and the thought made him sick. 

The woman turned away from them and unlocked a nearby computer. After a few minutes of searching through names and dates she gave a cold smile. 

“I've got another one tomorrow. Test is at 9am. I'll have the results by noon. Meet me here, but forget the gun. 

“Wonderful, we’ll let the boss know. And if you know what's good for you, if anyone comes around asking about this, keep your mouth shut.” Sherlock added a little snarl to the end of his threat then spun on his heels. By the time he'd reached the door he had the gun safely hidden behind his coat and a smug smile on his face. It wasn't until they were seated in the backseat of another cab that John finally spoke 

“What was that?” He inclined his head to the hospital that was disappearing out of view and raised an eyebrow expectantly at Sherlock. 

“I do believe, John, that if we show up at noon tomorrow, she’ll hand us the test results of another possible Omega child.” Sherlock had removed all emotion from his voice, but John didn't miss the way his eyes flickered with anger as he spoke. Without thinking he put his hand on Sherlock's knee and squeezed. Sherlock glanced down at his hand and after a moment he relaxed and placed one of his leather clad hands on top, letting his warmth envelop John's hand from all sides. 

“What does McCoy want with the test results?” John's mouth was suddenly dry, and the pit in his stomach churned uncomfortably.

“Use your imagination, John.”

“I don't want too…” John whispered harshly. “Is he selling them, keeping them as his, waiting until they present when they come of age… Or…” anger flashed through his body at the thought of anyone touching a poor defenseless Omega child. 

“Logically, it would make sense for him to keep them, condition them to serve without question. Having trained them from such a young age, when they do present they’ll be nothing more than puppets in their Alphas hands. I imagine,” he said with a dark growl, “they'll fetch a stunning price.”

“Black market slavery. Quite a long jump for a loan shark.” John shivered and found himself glad for the physical contact between Sherlock and himself. 

“Is it?” Sherlock shook his head, curls bouncing. “He's in it for the money. He sees this as a long term investment. And something tells me that Violet isn't his first, and won't be his last. John made a disgusted guttural noise then turned his body to face Sherlock.

“This morning… what would they have done to you, if you hadn’t gotten away?” the uneasy feeling that had been in John’s stomach grew exponentially when the creases around Sherlock’s eyes deepened. 

“I assume drug me… at least until they’d forced me into a bond. After that, I would have been locked away, my only use would be for breeding.” 

“Sherlock…” John pulled his hand out from under Sherlock’s and rose his hand up to cup Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock momentarily leaned into the touch, even went as far as closing his eyes for a few seconds before taking John’s hand in both of his and lowering it to his lap. 

“John, there is no reason to fret over something that never happened.” Sherlock brushed his thumb over the back of John’s hand.

“But who’s saying it couldn’t  _ still _ happen?” John’s face crinkled with concern and his eyes flicked down to where Sherlock’s scarf was covering the bite on his neck. “Our bond isn’t…. set in stone yet, per say. Not until your next heat. It  _ is _ still possible for someone else to…” John’s nose curled in anger and there was venom in his voice, “force their bond on you. Your body would attempt to reject it, of course, but if they bite you while, er, inside you...” 

“Well put, John,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, but the color drained from his face as John continued.

“My bite would then be null and void.” John tore his eyes away from Sherlock’s neck and noted the mix of concern and confusion written all over Sherlock’s face, and it amazed him at how little Sherlock knew of his own biology. “Currently, your body is preparing itself for… well for me. For my scent. However, until we…”

“Have sex.” a small smile curled up the corner of Sherlock’s lips. 

“Yeah, that.” John nodded and with difficulty continued on, “Until we have sex, other Alphas can still smell you. Once we’ve shared a heat, and… well I’ll have to bite you again, only I will be able to smell your scent, will be able to smell the changes in your body as your heat approaches.”

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly,” Sherlock’s thumb stilled on the back of John’s hand and he stared out the window at the darkening city. “In roughly three days time you and I will share my heat, during which our bond will be affirmed. However, if another Alpha were to replace you…”

“And allowed to share your heat,” John continued for Sherlock as the detective now looked like he was about to be sick, “my bite will mean nothing.” Sherlock simply nodded, and pressed his lips together in a thin line. “But, as long as we stick together… I won't let anything happen.” John placed his free hand on top of their already clasped hands and gave a gentle squeeze. When Sherlock finally spoke it was with a quintet voice full of nervous energy. 

“So you're saying I shouldn't leave your side?” John knew by the tone is Sherlock’s voice that the man was not happy at the thought. John let out a small little laugh and squeezed Sherlock’s hand again. 

“I'm saying you shouldn't run off in the middle of the night into a den of Alphas. We don't have to be joined at the hip, but I'd like to know where you are. At least most of the time. Can you do that much for me? Tell me where you’re going and how long you  _ should _ be?”

Sherlock gave John a small nod and the blond haired man slumped back against the seat with relief. He thought of removing his hands, the stretch to allow both hands to sit on Sherlock’s lap was not overly comfortable, but it was  _ comforting _ , and it appeared that Sherlock felt the same way. Sherlock shifted closer to John so they were now touching from shoulder to thigh, and shifted their hands until they were more on John’s lap. 

They spent the rest of the car ride sitting like that, neither saying a word, and when the cab finally came to a stop John was the first to move. He shifted forward in the seat and made to reach for his back pocket for his wallet when Sherlock stopped him, and handed him his own wallet.

“Use my card.” And with that he slid gracefully out of the cab and began walking down the street.

“Oi!” John leaned out of the car and shouted after his friend. “Where are you going?”

“Corner shop, John. We need milk! If I’m not back in ten minutes, you may call in the secret service.” Sherlock waved his hand in the air in such a way that John knew he was smirking.

“Fine, but bring back jammie dodgers!” The cabby cleared his throat and handed John back Sherlock's bank card, for a moment John looked at it but then he stepped out of the car and shouted loud enough for Sherlock to hear him, “Oi! Your card!” Sherlock spun around and took a few backwards steps and patted his pocket before spinning back around and continuing down the road into the setting sun. 

Rolling his eye John slipped his key into the lock and pushed his way into the dark hall. Mrs. Hudson was out, visiting her sister for the weekend. Once upstairs he plopped himself down in his chair, feeling emotionally drained, he closed his eyes, telling himself he'd just rest for ten minutes. 

When he woke, the sky was no longer pink, but a deep shade of blue and the flat around him was dark. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and John suddenly felt uneasy.  _ It was dark. Sherlock would have at least turned on the hall light when he came home.  _ Panic replaced John's unease as he checked his watched. It was half 7, Sherlock should have been home 45 minutes ago. 

John rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sprang out of his chair as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket. One glance at the blank screen told him Sherlock hadn't sent him a message, and after a quick inspection of the flat he could say with much certainty that Sherlock hadn't come home. Pulling up Sherlock's number he mashed the call button with his index finger and pressed his mobile to his ear, cursing when he was met immediately with Sherlock's answer phone. 

Thoughts of Sherlock, bound and gagged, in some dark room. Awaiting his heat, when some asshole Alpha would claim him and take him away from his blogger filled John's mind, along with a hundred different scenarios filled his mind. Fearing the worse John paced the lounge for a few minutes before deciding to call Lestrade and explain the whole situation. Just as he was about to call the D.I. John heard footsteps on the stairs and he rushed to the door. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, for the love of God is that you?” John threw the door open just in time to see the tall figure of Sherlock silhouetted against the hall light. Without giving his actions a second thought he grabbed Sherlock’s arm and pushed him against the door-frame, pressing his hips hard against Sherlock’s, effectively pinning him there. 

Sherlock, for his part, didn’t fight John when the Alpha began dragging his nose over any bit of exposed skin, his face, the part of his neck that wasn’t covered by his scar, and his ears, only stopping when he inhaled deeply and nearly snorted as some of Sherlock’s hair few up his nose. Sherlock’s deep chuckle pulled John out of his frenzy, but the doctor did not step away. Instead he looked up into the half illuminated face of Sherlock Holmes and, for the first time in a  _ very _ long time, felt like he could cry.

“God, I thought you were… That they had… Christ, Sherlock… You said ten minutes!” John rested his head against Sherlock’s chest, the scratchy material of his jacket a welcome reminder that Sherlock was  _ there _ ,  _ safe. _

“I do apologize for my tardiness, but… there was a bit of a wait at Mango Tree.” He sheepishly held up a bag that John hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and the smell of food filled John’s nose. 

“Jesus, you walked all the way to Grosvenor Place?” John shook his head and stepped back, allowing Sherlock to maneuver into the room, following him to the sofa where both the bag of food, and the shopping back from the shop were deposited onto the coffee table. 

“In 50 minutes? Don’t be daft, John. I took a car.” Sherlock gave John one of his “You are being utterly ridiculous” looks and shed his coat, letting it fall to the floor when he stood.

“But I had your card, you never carry that much money on you.” Out of habit, John bent, picked up Sherlock’s coat, and tossed it over one of the chairs at the table, and sat down on the sofa beside Sherlock.

“My brother decided it was high time for a chat.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and began opening containers of takeaway.

“And what is dear Mycroft up to these days?” John scoffed as he accepted an overflowing plate, just managing to catch a mini thai roll before it fell onto the floor. 

“News travels fast, apparently. He asked me if I knew what I was doing, if I was sure about this.” Sherlock motioned to his neck, to John’s bite, with his free hand, then popped some paradise beef into his mouth. 

“And?” John’s heart raced as he awaited Sherlock’s answer. Yes, the bond had been Sherlock’s idea, but John would be lying to himself, and anyone who asked, if he said he hadn’t wanted it for quite some time. He wanted more than  _ just _ a bond with Sherlock, he wanted anything and everything that mad man would give him. 

“I told him that it was my idea, that I wanted this.” Sherlock popped a bit of chin hum into his mouth and chewed slowly before adding in a quiet voice, “That I wanted  _ you.”  _

“Me?” John didn’t dare hope that Sherlock’s answer would match how his heart felt, and he sat, waiting for Sherlock’s answer as if he were frozen in time, his heart forgetting to beat.

“You.” the detective pivoted in his seat to look at John, his diamond eyes regarding the blond with amusement. “I find myself, enjoying your touches. You’ve kissed me twice now, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like, if you were allowed to kiss me without holding yourself back. Clearly we’re attracted to each other, there is no denying that. We have been since we first met.” 

“You want me to kiss you?” John’s plate lay forgotten, half eaten, on the coffee table as he stared opened mouth at Sherlock. “Actually  _ want  _ me to kiss you.” 

“Yes, John. Isn’t that what I just said?” 

“Ye- well, yes, but…” John closed his mouth and blinked half a dozen times before remembering to breathe. “Right then, after dinner.”

“Do people normally wait until they've finished eating to kiss?”

“No. Not always. But I know that once I've started, I won't have any interest in eating… Not food at least.” John blushed and turned back to his food, ignoring the way Sherlock was smirking down at him. It was with much difficulty that John resigned himself to finish the rest of his meal. Twice he almost put his plate down in favor of pushing Sherlock down into the sofa for the snog of their lifetime, but when he thought about how Sherlock had gone out of his way to get dinner for him, he let go of his fantasies and forced himself to take another bite. 

As John speared the last of his food with his fork, his heart began skipping beats and he realized he was holding his breath. Chiding himself for acting so foolish, he sucked in a slow breath before taking his last bite. His fork had only  _ just _ left his mouth when two strong hands were on him, pushing him back against the sofa in a movement that nearly made him choke on a grain of rice. When he had finished coughing and sputtering, he looked up to see Sherlock gazing down at him, his eyes full of an unfamiliar heat.

“Sh’lock…”  he mumbled, hindered by the food still in his mouth.

“It isn’t polite to talk with your mouthful.” Sherlock’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he gazed down at John teasingly. That was all John needed to push him into action, with an affectionate  “Git,” tossed in Sherlock’s direction, John rose up and soon had the detective on his back. Positioning his knees on either side of Sherlock’s hips he growled and grabbed Sherlock’s wrists, pinning them to the sofa just above Sherlock’s head. 

“So, Doctor, what are you going to do with me?” Sherlock’s voice rumbled deep and seductive, pulling at the back of John’s mind with velvet fingers. His neck was bent just enough to allow John to see the red bite mark he’d left there earlier in the day, his pupils were blown wide from desire, and his tongue… Oh his tongue…. It darted about his perfect lips, as if it's sole mission in life was to drive John Watson wild.  _ And was it.  _

“I think I’ll kiss you now.” John pursed his lips and tried to look as professional as he could, despite knowing full well that he was about to debauch Sherlock Holmes with nothing more than kisses. (And the occasional swipe of his tongue, if he were being honest.) “And I think I’ll start…” John nosed his way down Sherlock’s chest, as far as his reach would let him, and stopped just below Sherlock’s left collarbone. “Here.” 

With that he let go of Sherlock’s hands and sat up enough so he could begin working at the buttons on Sherlock’s ridiculously expensive shirt. As the first button came undone, Sherlock’s body gave a little shiver, with the second button, Sherlock’s breathing deepened, and by the time John had the third button undone Sherlock let out one low and beautiful,  _ god was it beautiful _ , moan. 

“Sherlock Holmes, I’m going to be your undoing, if it is the last thing I accomplish in this world.” John breathed as his lips ghosted along Sherlock’s collarbone, and by the sounds of Sherlock’s panting, it wouldn’t be all that difficult to achieve. Sherlock’s hips canted up and into John’s body even as the detective mewled.

“John, please…”

“Bed, Sherlock. Now.” John tore himself up and off of Sherlock’s body and held out a hand as an offering, and as a promise that he was not done with him just yet, while his other hand grabbed the milk off the coffee table. Sherlock groaned, but allowed John to maneuver him off of the sofa. 

The second he was on his own two feet Sherlock’s attitude changed from that of a wanton, wrecked man, to that of a man who knew exactly how to work every single one of his curves and angles effectively turning himself into John’s every fantasy. Two long, _ oh, so long, _ legs closed the space between the two of them, and Sherlock’s slender fingers wrapped around John’s hips. 

“I believe, Doctor, that you were about to debauch me. Rather rude of you to stop, isn’t it?” Sherlock’s voice was deep, all baritone, and it sank through John’s skin like liquid silk. John opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it, only to open it again. He felt dizzy and it suddenly felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. 

Before he had the chance to think of a response Sherlock's lips were on his.  _ And oh did he taste divine.  _ He tasted like honey, and Thai food, and so very much like Sherlock Holmes. His tongue darted out of his mouth on its own accord and ran hungrily over Sherlock's bottom lip, memorizing the way it felt and tasted. Sherlock's mouth opened in a silent gasp and they both moaned as John's tongue found a new home in his mouth. 

Their tongues clashed together, lips slid against lips, there was a moment when their lips clicked tougher and Sherlock uttered the most gorgeous chuckle. John suddenly became keenly aware of something hard and cold being pressed against his back, the fridge, ( _ When had they moved?)  _  and Sherlock's fingers pulled the milk out of his grip. He was only half aware, or was it that he only half cared, that Sherlock had somehow (while kissing him) managed to move them both from the sitting room into the kitchen. 

Once the milk was put away John took charge. He sunk his fingers into Sherlock's hair and tugged his head down into a filthy kiss that echoed off of the kitchen walls. With less grace than Sherlock, he pulled Sherlock into his bedroom and kicked the door closed with a loud thud. 

His mind raced, there was so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to show Sherlock that he would be a kind and patient lover, but right now he  _ needed _ Sherlock like he had never needed anyone before. John slid his hands out of Sherlock's hair and took hold of his shoulders just long enough to give the taller man a hard push towards the bed. Like everything in their life, their first time was bound to be hard and fast, full of life, and full of desire. 

Sherlock fell to the bed with a gasp, and quickly clambered up onto the middle of the bed, eyes blown wide as he watched John stalk over to him and crawl on all fours onto his mattress. Their eyes met, and John reached up to cup Sherlock's face in one of his hands, and for a moment the look of animalistic want faded. 

“You sure you want this, Sherlock?” He ran his thumb fondly over Sherlock's chin and imagined dragging his teeth over that sensitive skin. 

“Yes, John! Now hurry up and get these clothes off! I want to see you!” Sherlock’s hands tore at the hem of John's shirt, untucking it from his trousers. He tried in vain to pull it off, but John's jumper held it in place. 

John quickly sat up and in one go pulled his jumper and shirt off, towing them to the floor, and presented his naked half to Sherlock for inspection. He’d never wandered around the flat half naked like Sherlock so often did, so he knew full well that Sherlock would want to drink in his first sight of his bare chest. Sherlock’s eyes immediately went to the scar on John’s left shoulder. As his eyes inspected the scar he raised a hand and traced the starburst with his index finger. 

“I know you don't like it… But this wound brought you to me. I can't help but love it.” Sherlock said softly, blushing a little under John's gaze. 

“What about you… Can I see you?” John leaned down and nuzzled his nose along Sherlock's belly, catching a button in his teeth and looking up seductively into Sherlock's eyes. 

“Yes…” came Sherlock's breathy reply as he relaxed against the bed. 

“I have… half a mind..” John began as he grabbed two fistfuls of shirt on either side of the line of buttons, “to pull…” In response Sherlock rolled his hips up, pressing his erection against John’s bum. 

“Jesus, you're hard…” John growled - then pulled with all his might. There was a loud snap and he watched with dark satisfaction as Sherlock’s buttons went flying in all directions. “You’ll throat punch me for that tomorrow, but right now I don’t bloody care.” he growled as he pulled open the damaged shirt revealing what seemed like miles of alabaster flesh.

“Jesus…” John cursed again then pushed the shirt off of Sherlock’s shoulders before sitting up to inspect his prize. “Bloody gorgeous…” 

Sherlock blushed,  _ actually blushed _ as John’s eyes danced over his exposed skin, lingering for a moment on each rosy nipple, down the sparse hair that formed a T from his chest to his navel, then as John hungrily eyed his still growing bulge. 

“Sherlock Holmes, if you don’t tell me to stop now, I am going to devour you… every inch of you. There will be no going back, because once I have a taste of you, my hunger will be insatiable. Both because you are now my Omega and because you are Sherlock bloody Holmes.” 

“John… do not make me beg. I don’t enjoy begging, as you should already know!” Sherlock growled and nearly managed to uproot John, however before he had managed to reverse their positions John grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head. 

“Good, however… we might eventually get you to beg, if not tonight. Now, off with the rest…” John sat up and without hesitation let his fingers fall to Sherlock’s belt. Sherlock, understanding flooding over him, lifted his hips and allowed John to remove his trousers. The slow slide of fabric against skin as John pushed both Sherlock’s trousers and pants in one motion down to his knees made Sherlock gasp as he was left utterly exposed before his doctor. 

“Mmm… Big boy…” John muttered as he took in Sherlock’s full length. It was a known fact that male Omega’s pricks were small, so when John estimated Sherlock’s length as roughly 18 centimeters, he couldn’t help but grin. “You always surprise me…” he added with a grunt as he pulled the garment off and over Sherlock’s ankles, tossing them unceremoniously to the floor. 

While still kneeling beside Sherlock John pushed his remaining clothing down his thighs and gave a frustrated grunt when he ended up tangling himself up in his own clothes. Glaring at Sherlock, as his detective chuckled, he flopped onto his back, kicked his feet in the air a few times then with one final grunt sent his clothes flying.

“Let me see you…” Sherlock’s chuckle turned into a purr, soft on his ear, then the man was on him, hands cold as ice trailed down his body from his collarbone to his hipbone. “Not so bad yourself.” Sherlock murmured, lowering his head until his lips were brushing over John’s hips, fingers now tracing the skin around John’s cock. “You’ll gain… what… 3 inches when I’m in heat?” 

“Mmm.. roughly.” John nodded and swallowed a moan. “My knot will swell… responding to your body’s need for something a little… _ extra. _ ” John’s toes curled against the bed as the side of Sherlock’s left index finger ghosted against the side of his prick. It would be so easy, to sit back and let Sherlock explore and learn at his own pace, but John was impatient, he’d waited too long for this moment. 

With a loud growl John pushed Sherlock back and took one of Sherlock’s long spidery hands in both of his. Holding Sherlock’s gaze, he brought Sherlock’s finger, the one that had just grazed against his manhood, and sucked it into his mouth. He held his tongue still for a moment before curling it around Sherlock’s finger, drawing a moan to slip from the detective's lips. Next, John formed a light suction around Sherlock’s finger then rolled his tongue around the didge. He pulled off with a pop, the noise seemingly echoing through Sherlock’s bedroom. Licking his lips, he let go of Sherlock’s hand and winked.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you.” John shook his head, still grinning, and crawled over his detective once more, making the man shudder. At that shudder, something primal stirred inside John, and he dragged his tongue up from Sherlock’s navel to his neck with a deep growl. 

“Oh… the things I suddenly want done…” Sherlock moaned, canting his hips up to meet John’s body, his prick rubbing against John’s inner thigh. John pushed down, positioning himself so when he lowered his hips their cocks pressed together, and when he rolled them, the friction caused when his cock rubbed against Sherlock’s, they both let out a wanton groan. 

“We need lube…” John looked around, as if he were about to find a bottle of lube in plain sight, but Sherlock just chuckled.

“And you, the doctor  _ and  _ the Alpha, forgetting about one  _ very important _ thing.” Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up in a teasing manner as he spread his legs wide and a sweet fragrant scent permeated John’s senses, causing the doctor to laugh at his forgetfulness. Sherlock, an Omega, had his own natural lubricant. Unashamed, Sherlock dipped three long fingers between his legs. When he pulled them back, his sweet smelling lubricant was dripping from them like honey.

Before Sherlock had a chance to slick up either of their members John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and wrapped his lips around those three long fingers. John’s head swam as his  taste buds sent signals to his brain. Contrary to many people’s belief, he’d never been with an Omega before, and his first taste of Sherlock’s lubricant seemed to spark something deep inside of him. Once he had sucked Sherlock’s fingers clean, he dipped his own hand between Sherlock’s cheeks and moaned at the wet heat that greeted him.

His fingers probed into Sherlock’s wet slit and he allowed himself a few seconds to explore. Instead of a tight ring of muscle, like himself, Sherlock had a soft, but tight, slit that was leaking copiously. He ran the pads of his index finger over his entrance telling himself to fight the urge to slip a finger inside. He wanted to save that for Sherlock’s heat. 

Pulling his slick fingers away he wrapped his hand around both his and Sherlock’s cock  and let his eyes roll into the back of his head as Sherlock bucked into his fist. With is free hand, he sank his fingers into Sherlock’s curls and tugged at the detective’s head, tilting it to the side so he had full access to his neck. His tongue shot out and he pressed the tip of it up against the bite mark, circling it. 

“John…” Sherlock mewled and thrust his hips in an erratic pattern, panting like he’d just run a marathon. “John… please.” the plea, raspy and needy, was music to John’s ears.

“Tell me what you need, Bumble… anything… just tell me…” John’s voice matched Sherlock’s neediness, if not with a bit more control. 

“I need.. Need… just please.” Sherlock rolled his hips up groaning as John guess correctly and tightened his fist. 

“Yes… John!” Sherlock shouted, twisting his head so he could capture John’s lips with his. “Now kiss me, you idiot. Like you mean it,” he added when John lightly pressed his lips against Sherlock’s. 

Fueled by Sherlock’s bossiness John sucked Sherlock’s plump bottom lip into his mouth and captured it with his teeth, sucking in Sherlock’s gasp as if it were the only oxygen he needed. Their combined moans filled Sherlock’s room causing John’s heart to swell with love. It didn’t take long before John felt something deep inside his gut tighten. Just as he was about to close  his eyes and give in to the sweet promise of relief, Sherlock pressed his palms against John’s shoulder and pushed John off of him.

“Wait, Jo- John… Not like this.”

“Sherlock,” he groaned as Sherlock pushed him away but pressed a kiss to his lips, “how then… what do you need?” 

“I want too…” Sherlock grunted, thrusting his hips up into thin air, “in your mouth… like what you did with my finger.” Sherlock’s voice was so innocent and full of pure want, that John couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Anything for you, darling.” John kissed his way across Sherlock’s jaw then lowered himself down, his mouth open, until he was hovering over Sherlock’s cock. By the way Sherlock squirmed, just John’s breath against his cock, Sherlock’s imagination was working double time.

“Joooohhhnnn!” Sherlock’s cry rang out as John wrapped his lips around his detective’s cock, his tongue gently pushing back his foreskin then sliding his tongue over the head. Sherlock grunted, then stuffed three knuckles into his mouth, but John reached up and pulled them out, lifting his head for a second.

“No, Sherlock, I want to hear you. Don’t hold back… please, for me?”  Sherlock didn’t reply, but neither did he attempt to lift his hand back up off the pillow. When John returned to his previous ministrations Sherlock’s moans echoed through the room, consequently making John move his tongue faster.  

“Fuuuccck…” Sherlock swore, nearly startling John out of his concentration, and thrust his hips up. When the tip of his cock pressed against the back of John’s throat, John instinctively swallowed. Sherlock gave one last shudder and as John swallowed for a second time, Sherlock’s sweet release shot against his throat. Though surprised, John did his best to swallow Sherlock’s offering and only pulled away when Sherlock muttered that he was too sensitive. Pulling away, he kissed Sherlock’s wilting cock then sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

His first look at Sherlock filled his heart with more warmth, his detective was smiling, eyes closed, one hand in his hair while his chest heaved. He wished he could captured this moment to photograph. Sherlock Holmes, blissed out and  _ happy. _ Instead, he committed it to memory, soaking in every detail he possible could. Minutes ticked past and John was just reaching out to wrap one of Sherlock’s sweaty curls when he opened his eyes and let out a stifled yawn.

“To sleep with you, Mr. Holmes.” John smiled down, pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s temple, and made to roll off the bed but was stopped when one of Sherlock’s slender hands jutted out and grabbed hold of his elbow.

“Stay with me?” Sherlock yawned again and snuggled down in the blankets and for a moment John thought for a moment that Sherlock almost looked child-like, all the stress of his work, and their current case, were temporarily gone. 

“Always.” John smiled and sank back down in the bed, pressing his body against Sherlock’s side, one hand draped over Sherlock’s chest as a promise of protection and love.

“John…” Sherlock asked after a few moments of silence, his voice thick with the promise of sleep. “What about you… you didn’t get a chance…”

“Shhh…” John kissed Sherlock’s cheek and reached up to brush a curl from his forehead. “Tonight was about you. Go to sleep, and if you still feel that way in the morning… I’m sure we can come up with something.” 

“John,” Sherlock yawned as he curled his body into John’s, “I do believe I love you.”

“And I, my dashing Idiot, do believe that in return, I love you.” John chuckled and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Sherlock’s neck. With his nose still pressed against Sherlock’s skin, John fell asleep, not even in the least bit put out that Sherlock had gotten an orgasm while he hadn’t. After all, he wasn’t lying. Tonight had been about Sherlock, his darling Omega, the man he would spend the rest of his life protecting. 


	4. A Bit Of a Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny bit of BAMF Mycroft... because why the hell not?

 

The next morning was perfect, John woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. The realization that Sherlock had cooked for him made a jolt of warmth surge through his heart, and all thoughts of a morning wank vanished. They spent breakfast blushing at each other over their mugs of tea. However, the spell was broken when Sherlock put his coat on, telling John to stay home, intent on heading to the hospital alone.

Their argument was heated, and it took all of John’s self control not to assert his position as Sherlock’s Alpha. In the end after a brief shouting match that made Mrs. Hudson squeal and dart from the kitchen, John conceded and made Sherlock promise to keep him in in the loop. 

As Sherlock shrugged into his coat John stepped over to him and placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. Some part of him couldn't let Sherlock leave while they were still mad at each other. 

“Hey…” Sherlock stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “Listen, it isn’t that I don’t trust you.”

“Oh? Then what is it, John?” Sherlock spun around and glared at John, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“It’s you.” John shrugged and smiled weakly. “Our bond is new, still forming, every part of me wants to keep you in bed with me for the next week. I want to learn your body, learn every noise you make when I kiss each and every pressure point, Sherlock Holmes, I want to kiss every bit of your body. It isn’t natural for me to let you leave.”

“Oh…” Sherlock’s eyes softened and he cupped a hand around John’s face. “Is that why I don’t want to leave you? Why I want to devour you, and be devoured  _ by _ you?” While his voice was soft, his eyes were intense as he dragged them down John’s body. 

“Yes, Sherlock… Any newly bonded couple would stay hold up in their house for a week, at the least.” John nodded into Sherlock's hand, eyes closed, inhaling the salty smell of his palm. He still faintly smelled like bacon, and before he could stop himself his tongue darted out and tasted one of Sherlock's fingers.  

“You'd best go now, before I get the idea to tear your clothes off.” With one last deep breath John stepped back and watched as Sherlock's hand dropped. 

“It appears you've already had that thought.” Sherlock  whispered teasingly as he pulled his gloves on. “Now, Doctor, why don't you call that quaint little clinic of yours and tell them you'll be too busy making me orgasm to work this week.” Sherlock grinned as he gave a final tug on his left glove then without another look in John's direction spun on his heels and dashed down the stairs leaving John blinking in his wake. 

“Shit…” John rolled his eyes and began searching the flat for his mobile, finding it in the pocket of his trousers that had been chucked aside in Sherlock's room the night before. After checking to make sure the toss hadn't damaged his mobile he called the clinic and asked to used some time off, explaining in far too many words to the poor receptionist that it was for his bonding. (Thankfully he had left out the bit about making Sherlock orgasm over and over until the poor Omega was hoarse from screaming.)

Once that was taken care of he squared his shoulders and sets about inspecting the flat, making note of things they would need for their  _ time together. _ Forty-five minutes later he has a list that, in good conscience, was too long for him to pawn off on Mrs. Hudson, so he grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. 

Knowing there was a slight chance that Sherlock could arrive before he got back with the shopping, he scribbled a note and left it on the counter, nodded to himself that everything was in order while zipping up his coat. As he stepped outside the late morning air jolted through him, it was much colder than it should be for late March and he found himself thankful for the gloves Sherlock had given him for Christmas.    
  
Four stops later, one being for tea, and just over two hours later, John shouldered his way into the flat, pushing the door closed with his foot. As he dropped his armful of bags onto the table he called out, checking to see if Sherlock was home yet.

“Sherlock? You in?” Greeted with silence John took the few precious moments of calm to put away the shopping, making a mental list of everything as he did. Fruit, packets of biscuits, water bottles, energy drinks, things for sandwiches, two sets of extra sheets, a pack of special condoms specially designed for an Alpha, and a pack for Sherlock. Just in case. After putting those, along with the spare sheets, on the nightstand beside Sherlock’s bed, John wandered through the flat, fingering his mobile in his pocket, pretending he wasn’t getting worried. 

Another hour passed, and still no word from Sherlock, John was now officially worried. His mate was supposed to have just gone to the hospital, get the test results, and come home. Even if he had stopped off to get something to eat, he should have been home by now. He was just going to pull his mobile out of his pocket to call Sherlock when suddenly he fell to his knees, all the air was sucked out of his chest as if he’d been been punched by a giant. Panic crashed over him like waves trying to drown him quickly followed by despair and anger. 

Pain shot through his body as his knees collided with the hard floor and he had to throw his hands out to brace himself as he nearly lost his balance from the shock of the fall. On his hands and knees, head hung low, forehead nearly touching the floor, John knew instantly by the high levels of panic that were now swirling through his body that something was wrong. Something was wrong with Sherlock. He’d heard of this, bonded couples being able to detect when their mate was in danger or pain, but incidents like that always happened after years of being bound together, never the next day. But all the same, John knew what he was feeling was tied to Sherlock. 

Thankfully years in the military had trained him on how to harness the power of panic, and turn it into a useable energy. It took John a few tries to fight the feeling of utter despair that had his gut in an iron fist, but eventually he was able to push himself up off the floor and take in a deep, welcoming breath of fresh air. Without giving his actions a second thought, he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and tore through the flat to the bathroom, to where he kept his medical kit under the sink. As he moved, he pressed a button on his mobile and shoved the device to his ear, it rang twice, before the snide voice of Mycroft Holmes greeted him. 

“Doctor Watson to what do I…”

“Can it, Mycroft. Sherlock’s in trouble. I don’t know where, I don’t know how, but someone has him. And don’t ask me how I know, I just… I just do. It’s the bond, or something.” John spoke quickly, voice deadly calm with a hint of danger in it as he gathered up his medical kit.

“There will be a car outside your door in five minutes, I suggest you bring your gun.” Mycroft’s voice had a hint of genuine concern and John nodded, knowing that even though Mycroft couldn’t see him, he would know.

“Can you track him?”

“I’ve just turned on the GPS on his mobile… at the very least, we should get his last known location.”    
  
“Right. I’m outside, where is your bloody car!” By now John had shoved his gun into the small of his back, tossed on his coat and gloves, and was pacing the sidewalk outside 221B. “A cab would be bloody faster!”

“I assure you, a cab would not be faster than my drivers. While I have people stationed nearby, it does take time -”

“We don’t bloody have time! Sherlock’s about to go into his natural heat, aided by my bite!” John growled into the phone, one hand in his hair desperately yanking at his tresses. Mycroft sniffed, but said nothing, leading John to believe that news of his brother’s heat was new to him.

“How long?” Mycroft asked and John knew he was  _ not _ talking about the car.

“Two days, at most. Less if he gets stressed. Especially as I highly doubt your brother has ever had a natural heat. 

“Other than when he first presented, you are correct, Doctor.” Mycroft’s voice had an edge to it that nearly brought back the feeling of full blown panic. John planted both feet flat on the ground, squared his shoulders and sucked in a deep breath of cold air, relishing the way it stung his throat and lungs.

“He was at London General, after a lead. Was supposed to go pick up some test results, then come back home. Can you have -”   
  
“CCTV, I’m already on it Doctor Watson, I assure you, half of my staff is now searching the footage for him.” Just as Mycroft ended his sentence a sleek black car pulled up in front of John. John didn’t even wait for the driver to get out, or for someone in a dark suit to roll the window down, insisting on his joining them. He just pulled the closest door open, tossed his medical kit inside  and pushed his way into the car, not caring that one of Mycroft’s operatives had to unbuckle and scoot over to the other side. With his mobile still to his ear, John caught the driver’s eye, and said to both Mycroft and the driver, “London General. Break the speed limit, I don’t fucking care. Just get me there. Fast.” 

Without a second thought John mashed the “End Call” button and proceed to stare out the window as the driver pulled away from the kerb and merged with traffic. As they moved through London, the car swerving in and out of lanes, passing pissed off drivers, John realized he’d been in military convoys that were less daring than this. Yet he didn’t care, he didn’t care about the rows of pissed off drivers behind him, or about the cop who had attempted to pull them over, only to give up after a few minutes. (Mycroft's doing, no doubt.) All he cared about was Sherlock Holmes, and getting him back home safe. 

“Doctor Watson?” the man sitting beside him spoke, nearly startling John out of his thoughts, but he quickly composed himself and glared at the young man. He was fit, well built, and judging by how he sat, slightly cramped in the backseat, he was taller than Sherlock.

“Mmm?” John glared at the man then took a deep breath, this man was not the enemy, he was here to help. “Sorry, yes?” 

“CCTV footage shows no sign of Sherlock Holmes leaving the hospital. There is one service door in the back, however, it is not covered by cameras.”

“Right…” John nodded having expected as much. If Sherlock had been taken, he wouldn’t have been waltzed out the front door for everyone to see. “Can we pull up directly to the service entrance? I want to look around.”

“Of course… Also…” the man’s voice was cautious, and he bit his bottom lip as if afraid to continue.

“Also what?” John snapped, sounding every bit like his former Military self. “This is no time for doubt or fear! So speak up or I’ll have Mycroft send someone else to assist me!” 

“Also, Sherlock’s phone is still showing as being located at the hospital.” 

“So, either he is still there, or they’ve ditched his phone, probably the later.” John nodded, his gut churning and anger making his vision go red. Whoever had taken Sherlock clearly knew what they were doing. Meaning Sherlock was right, Violet had not been their first victim “What is our ETA?” 

“Five minutes, Sir.” 

“Get Mycroft on the phone, I want to conserve my battery, in case I get a ransom call.” John mentally kicked himself for not having charged his mobile last night. He didn’t use his mobile for much more than texting and the occasional phone call, but being older it’s battery life wasn’t all that great. He was handed a slim mobile phone, that was already lit up, and he threw it on speaker.

“Mycroft, I need you to send someone to Victor Fowler’s house. He’s in on this, somehow, even if he’s just an unfortunate victim. We were investigating the disappearance of his 5 year old daughter, who just so happened to disappear a few days after her Omega test results came back.  We’re dealing with Omega Black Market slavery. Sherlock’s guess is they take them as children and brainwash them into a life of servitude…” John spent the remainder of the car ride informing Mycroft of all the details of their case, ending with, “Also, I need a portable charger for my mobile. It’s nearly dead, and I don’t have time to worry about it turning off.” 

“Anything else, John?” Mycroft sounded out of breath as if he’d just been running, but John didn’t take long to imagine why.

“Not currently, no. We’re here… I’ll report back once I’ve found something.”  _ If I find something. _ John’s mind taunted him, but he shook his head hard and tore himself out of the car, determined to find something  _ anything.  _ Any clue that could lead him to Sherlock, or his kidnappers. 

The service entrance proved to be nothing more than a loading dock in front of a set of double doors, and a ramp leading up to a regular door. Upon further inspection, each door was locked by a keypad, both accessible by key card and a numeric code. 

“Who has access to these doors?” John asked, knowing full well that Mycroft’s minion had followed him out of the car.

“Cleaning staff, laundry mostly, also a few maintenance men. Seldom used now, the hospital has only just recently switched over to their own machines.”

“These are fresh tire tracks... “ John pointed to the tracks on the pavement, someone had pulled out of here in a hurry. “We need to go talk to the lady in the lab, the one Sherlock was meeting with, and we need to track down this McCoy fellow, I’m sure if we find him, we find Sherlock.”

“Of course, Sir.” 

“Also, it would be helpful if I knew your name, I assume you’d rather not be called ‘Mycroft’s Minion.’”

“David, Sir.” David gave John a sort of bemused grin and slid a key through the lock, the lock beeped and he pulled the door open giving John a questioning look.

“Go, I’ll catch up. I want to have one more look around.” John jutted his chin towards the door, indicating that David should go, and accepted the keycard with a stiff nod. “Ta.”

As the heavy door thudded closed he was left alone, aside from the driver who had not exited the car. He took in a deep breath and glanced around. Aside from the tire tracks, it didn’t appear that there was much more to be seen. He’d have to have Mycroft look for a vehicle speeding away from this location. He was just about to slide the keycard when something on the ramp caught his eye, a phone. Bending low he picked it up, his heart gave a leap as he recognized it as Sherlock’s. The screen was scratched and had one long crack going up the middle. Almost as if it had been dropped

One swipe of his finger, and four numbers later, John was looking at the phone’s built in voice memo app. Puzzled at first, John wondered why it was open. Sherlock didn’t need to record anything to remember it, that man could remember anything he chose too. So why? The only explanation he could think of, was Sherlock knew something  was about to happen, and had recorded it for whoever found his mobile. Which meant he knew he was in danger and he had discarded his mobile on his own behalf. Moving with newfound purpose John jumped over the railing to the ramp and landed on the pavement below with a graceful thud and walked over to the car, throwing open the driver's door.

“Call Mycroft!” He barked, through it was apparent that his order was unnecessary as the driver was already talking into his phone. “Right, put it on speaker, he’ll want to hear this.”  With a calm that would have scared his army mates, John selected the recording and pressed play, closing his eyes to help focus his concentration. 

At first they were greeted with nothing but white noise, then after a few seconds, Sherlock spoke.

**_“I gather I’m not the only person you’ve promised these results to?” His voice was cold and accusatory and John could make out a tinge of panic. “Did McCoy not trust me to complete this transaction alone?_ ** ****_  
_ **_  
_ ** John’s heart sank at the woman’s reply,

**_“I’ve had a word with McCoy.” There room was filled with the creaking of a door opening followed by what sounded like two separate sets of footsteps._ **

**_“He said he didn’t send anyone over here yesterday, said it would have been foolish, too soon since the last one. Also,” She continued, and there was the sound of footsteps moving about the room, “seems he doesn’t have anyone in his employment matching your description, or your friend's.” Her voice was dismissive, and John felt anger spark in his belly. “He’s all yours boys…”_ **

**_With that the footsteps grew closer to Sherlock followed by the sounds of a struggle ending with Sherlock’s sharp intake of breath._ **

**_“Oi! What did you just inject me with?” Sherlock growled, and John imagined him throwing a punch as the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the room._ **

**_“A serum of pure Alpha pheromones.”_ **

The answer chilled John to the bones, as did the laugh that followed. His free hand balled up into a fist and he heard himself growl. On an Alpha that injection would weaken him (or her, but on an Omega like Sherlock, not only would it speed up the arrival of his heat, but it would grossly intensify it. 

The rest of the audio clip was little more than the clear sounds of Sherlock being manhandled throughout the hospital. Seconds before the clip ended, however, one of the voices broke the silence.

**_“Let’s get him to the club. Best if we get him there before they open, less of a chance he’ll be seen.”_ ** There was a grunt of approval before the clip ended to the sounds of an engine turning over.

“Mycroft, I’ve texted the auto clip over to you.”

“It’s well on it’s way to my experts, John. Also, David has reported that the lab is empty.”

“Right, Mycroft, can you track Sherlock’s location from yesterday? I need to know where he found Victor. My gut is telling me that’s where he’s being held.”

“Your  _ gut? _ ” Mycroft’s snort made John’s nose twitch in anger, and for a fraction of a second John felt like punching the hard side of the car.

“Yes! My  _ gut _ . And it hasn’t served me wrong yet! Only once, when I ignored it! You know what happened then, Mycroft? Hmm? I go  _ shot. _ ” John growled low into the phone and imagined wrapping his fingers around that posh neck. “So, I will repeat… Find me the location of the club Sherlock was at last night, and get me a team.”

“What kind of team, John?”

“Tactical. We’ll need vests, weapons, perhaps flash bombs, I’ll need no less than 20 men. I don’t want to be in charge, my main mission will be to find Sherlock. I need someone who can go in with a clear head and control the situation. Teams of two, three is better.”

“Very well. Have my driver take you to me, we’ll gear up here. By then we should have the location.” 

John walked around the car, climbed into the back seat and cradled Sherlock’s broken mobile in his hands. He closed his eyes and let out a long sharp breath from his nose.  _ “I’m coming, Sherlock… Just hold on… I’ll find you.”  _  He repeated that thought over and over, so focused on it that he didn’t realize David had gotten back into the car, or that they were moving, until he felt a hand on his arm.

“We’re here, Sir.”    
  
Blinking John looked around, discovering that he’d not been brought to the Diogenes Club, but to a small obscure looking brick building not far away from NSY. Following David and the driver inside, he was ushered through what at first glance appeared to be a call center. Before John had time to look around, he was being guided through a door in the back of the room. The room was large, furnished with a large oval table surrounded by chairs. Nearly every chair was full, and by the looks of it, full with military men from all backgrounds. 

“Have a seat, Captain Watson.” Mycroft’s voice called out from the far side of the table. John caught his eye, nodded stiffly, then sat in the only free chair, just on Mycroft’s right. “Now that everyone is here, we can get started. My men have just sent over the blueprints of the building we’ll be entering.” Something in the center of the table flickered, and a built in screen lit up a good portion of the table. On the screen were the blueprints. Mycroft pulled something from his waistcoat pocket and pointed it at the image. A little red dot danced over what appeared to be the main entrance.

“This is the entrance for the club. I have one of my men currently staking out the club. He just reported that the club only uses these rooms.” The laser pointer moved gracefully over the three largest rooms in the front of the building then hovered over two side by side rooms of equal size. “These are the loo’s. We’ll not need to bother searching here, but we will need to secure them.”

“However, these two rooms..” Mycroft continued on, “are a fairly new addition. My operative in the building says that there is most likely a basement of some kind. His thought, and I happen to agree with him, is that the basement is our target.”

Mycroft put the laser pointer away and looked over the group of people seated before him. “If you would all each look to the person on your right, you’ll meet your new partner. For the duration of this mission you are not to leave each other’s sides.” John was about to turn to his right when Mycroft’s hand on his elbow made him look left instead. 

“You’re coming?” John stared at Mycroft and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You?”

“Yes, I’m going. He’s my brother, and we both know what state he’s likely to be in when we find him. Do you think he would forgive us for letting anyone else see him like that?” John thought for a moment then shook his head. “No, neither do I. Now, Captain, do you have your medical kit?”

“Mmm.” John nodded and picked up the small cloth case up off the table. 

“Good, then let’s go get fitted for our Kevlar vests…” 

Thirty minutes later the entire group was fitted with black tactical vests, helmets, and weapons. John watched as they all loaded into the back of a waiting van, and was just about to join them when Mycroft again pulled him aside.

“You ride with me.” 

Mycroft stepped into the back of the same car that had taken John here and held the door open. After a few uncertain moments, John wanted to be in the van, wanted to be debriefed, wanted to know what the plan was, he slid in beside Mycroft. 

“Listen, if you’re about to ask me about my intentions with your brother, you can forget it.” John spoke quickly, staring ahead as they began moving through the streets of London. It was just after 4pm, and London was just starting to come alive.

“Quite the contrary, actually.” Mycroft’s voice was gentle and John could feel his eyes on him. “My chat with my little brother allowed me to glean all the information I required. Your bonding has actually given me quite a bit of relief.”

“Happy to help, Mycroft… Now if you don’t mind, I’m not in the mood for small talk. I would much rather be in there,” John flicked his head ahead of them, towards the van carrying the 30 individuals who were currently being given their missions. 

“John, your mission is to remain calm, and to go in there with your head clear. Plus, all my men are being given a dose of Alpha Inhibitors. Being in there, would just rile you up. No, here is the best place for you.”

John said nothing, but nodded and fiddled with the safety on his handgun. He had opted to stick with his pistol, favoring the ease the small size allowed. If he found Sherlock,  _ no when he found Sherlock,  _ he didn’t want to be hindered by an over sized weapon. Mycroft, on the other hand, had decked himself out. He had a pistol, and AR 15, and no less than 4 knives hidden in various spots on his body. 

“So, what did you do, before you  _ were _ the government?” John asked, eyeing Mycroft.

“You’ve seen James Bond?”

“Mm, based after the real life spy, The White Rabbit… Wait you’re not…” John gawked at Mycroft, seeing the elder Holmes brother in new light.

“I was one of the few who has carried the title, yes.” Mycroft smirked then glared down his nose at John.

“Oh, don’t bother threatening me. I won't tell anyone.”  They both shared a dry chuckle before lapsing into silence. The rest of the car ride was tense, every fiber of John’s being was vibrating with nervous energy. Every minute brought him closer to Sherlock. He knew that they had no definitive proof that Sherlock was here, other than what his gut was telling him, and as they grew closer, that feeling grew stronger.

“John?” Mycroft’s voice broke through his thoughts and he shook his head, clearing it. “We’re here. We’re going to give the first group 4 minutes, then we go. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” John croaked out, swallowed, then tried again. “Yeah.” He stepped out of of the car and tugged down his vest. Squaring his shoulders he waited for Mycroft then together they joined the rest of the team. The club was quiet, but as Sherlock had been here well past midnight, John wasn’t surprised.

There was the ominous clicking of tactical gear as the first group of men surged through the carpark and into the building. Sucking in a deep breath, he held it until his head swam, then slowly exhaled. Seconds ticked by and slowly turned into one minute, two minutes, then finally, three. He was given the signal, then felt Mycroft at his side.

Together they walked into the building. John paid no attention to the few patrons who were huddled in a tight group, cowering under the gun trained on them. He followed Mycroft through the main room, through the back door, and down a dark staircase that lead into the basement. The second John’s feet were planted on the hard cement, his head swam. Aside from the dirty, musty scent of the cellar, John could smell Sherlock. Sherlock’s crisp, sweet scent caused relief to flood over his body. He was here, he had found Sherlock. He just had to hope that he wasn’t too late, and that some other Alpha hadn’t removed his claim over Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock was roughly pushed into the back of the van and before he could pull himself up off the floor his hands were roughly forced behind his back. With a face full of grimy carpet he cried out in pain as the zip ties bit into tender flesh around his wrists. 

This was  _ not _ how he had envisioned today going. His plan had been: get the test results then go home and show John just how very clever he was as he solved the case. Now he was face first at the bottom of a van that smelled suspiciously like chloroform. His head began getting woozy and though he tried to fight it, his eyes became heavy. Last time he's felt like this had been when Irene Adler had drugged him. But he hadn't had to worry then. John had been there. 

John, his John. The one man he trusted with his life, aside from his brother of course. John had proven humor time after time that his best interests were in Sherlock's behalf. How he wished he’d had John come with him today instead of trying to prove that he could still be independent from his Alpha. As his mind slipped into darkness his only hope was that John would realize he was missing and find his phone, before it was too late. 

When Sherlock opened his eyes next it was dark. Panicking he thought it was already night, and all hope of John finding him nearly vanished before he realized he was simply in an unlit room. He took in a deep breath from his mouth and immediately wished he hadn’t. He gave a scowl as his body, sensitized by his oncoming heat, picked up the tastes in the room. It was moldy, damp, and smelled vaguely like stale beer. 

As more of his senses came back online he became aware that he was still bound. However differently than before in the van. He realized, with no small amount of horror, that he was naked, his hands were behind his back, his face was smushed uncomfortably against the floor and his ankles were strapped to some sort of pole, in the darkness he couldn’t tell what material it was made out of, however he didn’t need light to know what purpose it served. Like this, his legs were spread, leaving him open and vulnerable to whoever might happen upon him. The surface under him was hard so his first thought was that he was on the floor, but as he lifted his head up to look around he caught the scent of polished wood. 

_ “I'm on a table of some sort, in a dark room that smells like beer and….”  _ Sherlock sniffed again. There was a trace of something else in the air, something familiar. He closed his eyes and inhaled again, calculating each and every scent.  _ “Mildew, that says damp area, perhaps a basement. Stale beer plus the cool temperature, possibly this room was used to store alcohol at one time. Bodily fluids, but not urine. This room has been frequently used for sex. Cigars, and a special blend, one that I've only come across once before. At the club yesterday.” _

He sucked in a deep breath as realization swept over him. He must be in the basement of the club. This must be where they had Violet hidden until it was safe to move her. It was the only thing that fit. Now that he had his location pinpointed, with nothing else to distract him, Sherlock began to panic. No matter how he turned or twisted he could not get loose, all he managed to do was cut through the skin on his wrists. The bar attached to his ankles wouldn’t budge, no matter how much he thrashed, leading Sherlock to believe that it was attached to the table, or, whatever surface he was on.

He wasn’t sure how long he was left alone in the room, but judging by the pain in his joints it had been well over an hour. His shoulders ached, his knees screamed in pain, his head was getting fuzzy, and the occasional thoughts of John, more specifically John’s cock, drifted over him. Thoughts of John bending him over their kitchen table and taking him hard from behind, soon became all he could think of. He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn’t hear the door open. It wasn’t until the light flicked on causing Sherlock to recoil and blink as the bright light replaced the utter dark. A low chuckle, devoid of all mirth, filled Sherlock’s small room as the door clicked shut.

“I see you’re coming along nicely…”  A calloused finger dragged along the inside of Sherlock’s thigh and Sherlock was rudely made aware at just how very wet he was.

“When my men injected you, we had no idea you were an Omega. They were just trying to weaken you. But look at you now, practically begging for my cock.”

“By now,” Sherlock croaked out, his voice high and strained. “John, my Alpha, will know that I’m missing.”

“ _ Your Alpha?”  _  The owner of the voice didn’t moved from behind Sherlock, denying him the chance to see him. “You mean the Alpha who bit you out of heat. This bite…” Two fingers dug into the bite on Sherlock’s neck, sharp nails biting into his skin causing Sherlock to bite back a cry of pain. “is little more than scenting. It’ll hurt like a bitch when I bite you once my cock is buried deep inside you, but you’ll come round…And god... When you do... with looks like yours, our children will fetch a high price.”

The assaulting fingers pulled away from Sherlock’s body and the man circled, stopping just in front of the Omega. Strong fingers gripped his jaw, pulling Sherlock’s face up to look at him. Sherlock was met with the harsh face. His skin was covered in pockmarks, his teeth were crooked and yellow. Everything about the Alpha’s face repulsed Sherlock, so much so that Sherlock replied by growling and spitting into the Alpha's’ face.

“Feisty…” The man roughly let go of Sherlock and stepped back around Sherlock. Sherlock tried to trace his movements, but still it came as a shock when two hands grabbed his arse and pulled his cheeks apart and growled hungrily. Just as suddenly he was gone, and Sherlock heard the sound of his zip being lowered. Fight or flight kicked in and Sherlock did everything in his power to break out of his bonds, but his struggling just made the Alpha behind him laugh.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself, any second now his life as he knew it would be over. Once the Alpha was inside him, his teeth sinking into his neck, it would be too late. His whole body tensed as there was a loud crash behind him and a blur of movement, followed by John’s voice.

“Step away from him. Or I  _ will _ shoot you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mycroft!” John hissed, grabbing hold of Mycroft’s elbow he dragged him down the hall, passing a row of closed door. Sniffing furiously, he stopped in front of the third door and pointed. “Here! But I’m getting two scents, Sherlock’s and... “John couldn’t hold back the growl. “an Alpha.” 

John tried the doorknob, cursing silently when it wouldn’t turn. Mycroft nodded and motioned for John to step aside. With agility and grace that surprised John, Mycroft kicked the door down and swung into the room, weapon brandished, John at his heels his own pistol held firmly in his grip. 

The sight that greeted them made John's vision go white from anger. Sherlock, his precious Sherlock, was laid out on a bed. He was tied up and naked. His hands were crudely fastened behind his back with zip ties while his ankles were fastened to a bar that forced his legs apart. The worst of the sight, however, was not the panic in Sherlock's eyes, or even his cries of protest. It was the image of the Alpha, erect cock in hand, who has been inching his way closer to Sherlock.

“Step away from him. Or I  _ will _ shoot you.” John's lips curled up, teeth bared, as he snarled, spit flying in all directions in his anger. 

“I do suggest you listen to him. He's already killed a man on this Omega’s behalf. And, as this Omega has already accepted his bond, you'll find he has every legal right to shoot you.” Mycroft sounded bored, but he kept his weapon raised. The Alpha took one look at John, then at Sherlock's neck, and visibly swallowed. 

“Bet you didn't expect his Alpha to barge in like this.” John said darkly as he took one step closer, leveling his pistol at the other man's head. “Might want to pull your trousers up, it's a bit nippy out there. I would  _ hate _ for you to get frostbite on your dick.” 

Mycroft gave a dark chuckle and stepped toward, grabbing the Alphas hands and cuffing them behind his back before he had time to reach down and pull his trousers up. The Alpha snarled and began shouting as Mycroft pushed him out of the room and into the custody of one of his men, but John no longer cared. His attention was now on Sherlock. 

Sherlock, his fearless detective was whimpering and shaking so violently that for a moment John thought he was injured. After a quick inspection and having been unable to find any blood, he began to inspect Sherlock's bonds. He placed a hand on Sherlock's back and sighed when Sherlock stopped shaking and relaxed beneath his touched.  

“Mycroft, knife.” John barked and held out his hand, a second later the cool handle of a Bowie knife was pressed against his palm. John made quick work of the tough plastic and soon had Sherlock's hands freed. As he moved to Sherlock's ankles he looked up at his friends face. 

“Sherlock. Are you alright? Talk to me, Sherlock.”

“John?” Sherlock sounded scared and confused, but when he was free, and John's strong hands were pulling him to his feet, then into a tight embrace, he began to sob. “You came for me.” He pressed his face into John's neck as his hands gripped at the back of John's vest. 

“Of course I came for you…” John purred,  _ God since when did Sherlock smell this good? His heat must be close.  _ “I'll always come for you. Sweetheart, I need you to think,” he pulled away when Sherlock began rubbing his body against his front. “Where are your clothes?” But before Sherlock could respond there was movement in the door and Mycroft was handed a bundle that proved to be Sherlock's wardrobe. 

“Let's get you dressed…” John gently placed a kiss to the side of Sherlock's head and gently pushed him down until he was sitting on the bed. “Come on, Bumble, at least your coat so I can take you home.”

Sherlock nodded and his eyes went glassy as his Alpha began lifting one arm and stuffing it into his coat, and then the next, clearly enjoying the attention from John. Once John had gotten Sherlock's arms into the jacket he helped the Omega stand just long enough to button the front, then he bent down and pulled Sherlock's body into his arms. 

It had been a while since John has lifted anything quite as heavy as Sherlock, and he grunted with the effort, but the thought of putting Sherlock down never crossed his mind n. He stumbled once on the steps and when one of Mycroft's men offered to help he bared his teeth and growled. Mycroft then stepped in and acted like a shield between John and everyone else, guiding John and his precious package through the club and out into the early evening where the car was waiting. 

“Come on, darling, let’s get you home.” John kissed the side of Sherlock’s face before placing a hand over his head protectively and lowering him into the car. 

“John.” Sherlock drawled, reaching out when John’s arms let go of him. “John… need you.”

“Shh, I’m right here.” John crawled into the backseat and smiled grimly when Mycroft slipped into the driver’s seat. Of course Mycroft would insist on driving, but he actually found himself grateful. He didn't relish the idea of anyone seeing Sherlock like this. Before he had the door shut, Sherlock had crawled over to John’s side of the car and was nuzzling against his neck.

“What about the others? Violet?” Sherlock murmured while pressing open mouthed kisses to John’s neck. John laughed, and carded a hand through Sherlock’s curls, making his Omega let out a long purr. “Did you find them?”

“Oh, Sherlock…” John smiled fondly at his partner, even in the onset of heat, Sherlock’s mind didn’t rest. He was still worried about the case, and for some reason this made John feel like the proudest man alive, to have such an incredible Omega. “You can relax, Mycroft’s men found Violet, along with four other Omega’s, all under 14 years old. Lestrade has been called in, he’ll take care of everything.” 

“Lestrade?” Sherlock growled as he pulled his head away from John's fingers, his eyes flashed with annoyance and for a moment he looked like himself. “You’re trusting Lestrade with this?”

“Relax, Brother…” Mycroft caught Sherlock’s eye in the mirror. “I’ll be overseeing everything.” 

“Right, good. That’s good. John, did you hear that…” Sherlock nuzzled up against John’s shoulder again, rubbing his face against the rough fabric of John’s vest. 

“Mmm it’s good, Bumble. Now, come here.” John patted his lap and smiled when Sherlock curled up with his head on John’s lap. John’s fingers instantly disappeared in Sherlock’s hair, and the remainder of their car ride was filled with the content sounds of Sherlock’s moans. 

“Mycroft, any chances you can get us back to Baker Street quickly?”

“I’ll see what I can do, John.” 

As the car surged forward John let himself relax. Sherlock was safe, he hadn’t been too late, and soon no one would be able to separate them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE feel free to point out any typos! I've written most of this on my ipad, and I swear my ipad hates me and changes words just because it thinks it is hilarious! I've gone over it, but you know how when you read your own works you kinda just skip things... yeah, that's what I'm doing.


	5. The Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've almost reached the end... Thank you for joining me on this journey! I've loved being able to share this with each and everyone one of you, and GREATLY appreciate each kudo and all those lovely comments! 
> 
> xoxox -Tindo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: (Big flashing neon sign)
> 
> SMUT

 

Their journey seemed to take forever, despite the fact that Mycroft broke every speed limit and took shortcuts that John was sure Sherlock didn't even know about. As he pulled onto Baker Street Mycroft caught John's eye in the mirror.

“Your landlady has been informed about your.. situation… and has decided that a visit to her sister was in order. She simply asks that you call her when everything has been taken care of.” John nodded briskly and began to untangle his fingers from Sherlock's hair, much to the Omega’s despair.

“We’re home, Sherlock. Can you sit up for me?” John smiled down and nearly laughed out loud when Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Of course I can sit up, John. I'm not an invalid.”

“No, you most certainly are not, now get your arse up and let me unbuckle.” It took John nearly a full minute to untangle is buckle from both his tactical vest, and Sherlock. Sherlock made full use of that minute and insulted John no fewer than three times regarding his speed. (Or lack of, to be more precise.) By the time John had himself unbuckled Sherlock was already out of the car pacing impatiently on the sidewalk. His coat must have unbuttoned sometime during the car ride, because now it was open and flapping in the wind behind him, making Mycroft shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally out of the car John hurried forward and grabbed hold of either side of the besllstaf, managing to pull it closed before too many people saw just how very naked Sherlock was underneath it.

“Sherlock, while I'm all for a bit of self exhibition under the right circumstances, I'd rather not show _all_ of Baker Street just how fantastic my Omega’s cock is.”

Sherlock said nothing, instead responding by smiling seductively as John took hold of his shoulders and began walking him backwards off of the sidewalk and towards their front door.

“Step up.” John mumbled as he leaned close, both to unlock the door and to steal a kiss from Sherlock’s plush lips. “One more step up, Bumble, don't trip over the door jam.”

The moment John had maneuvered Sherlock inside a sly smile painted itself on Sherlock's face. And no sooner had John shut the door behind them, did Sherlock shed his coat while stepping onto the bottom step and turning to face John.

“Now, Doctor.” When Sherlock spoke his voice was pure silk and made John's mouth water. “Let's see if you can catch me.” John caught a fleeting glance of Sherlock's bobbing erection as the detective spun on his heels and gracefully darted up the stairs.

“Two can play at this game.” Joe chuckled as he stepped over Sherlock's coat and followed his vixen of an Omega up the stairs. He rounded the corner and was just in time to see one of Sherlock's feet disappear through the door leading into the kitchen. Thinking he had Sherlock trapped, the only place left to go being Sherlock's bedroom, John walked into their kitchen wearing a triumphant grin. However, always one step ahead, Sherlock has positioned himself on the far side of the table, where he stood smirking.

“You're not getting slow in your old age, are you, Doctor? How do you plan to keep up with me these next few days if you can't even catch me?” He gave John a coy smile and sidestepped as John began circling the table.

“Who says I'm trying to catch you”  John grinned and paused long enough to remove his vest and throwing it on the table before changing direction and laughing when Sherlock sidestepped the other way. “I'm rather enjoying the way Playful Sherlock smells.”

“So, you are enjoying this?” Sherlock eyed the vest, then looked to John's chest, then back to the vest while licking his lips.

“Immensely.” John nodded and placed his hands on the table, inhaling deeply. “As do you, don't bother denying it.” John took half a step to the left and laughed as Sherlock matched it, stepping in the opposite direction as him. “I'll move the table if I have too, Mister.”

With a burst of speed that John was not expecting Sherlock shot past him and ran into their lounge with a giggle. John spun and reached his arms out, groaning as this tips of his fingers _just_ brushed against one of Sherlock's arms. When he entered their lounge Sherlock was leaning playfully against the open hall door.

“Is that the best you've got? Perhaps your clothing is slowing you down?” Sherlock winked and ran a hand down his long _naked_ torso.

“Oh, you want me to strip for you?” John cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Perhaps. Why don't you take something off, and we’ll test your theory.” Sherlock crossed his arms and gave John an “I'm waiting” look.

“Very well… Your way then.” John lifted his hands and began undoing the buttons to his shirt. John made a show of it, relishing the hungry look on Sherlock's face as he revealed inch by inch of his chest. Once the last button was opened John slid the shirt off his shoulders and held it out to his side, letting it fall to the ground with a soft rustle. Sherlock's eyes followed the shirt, then darted up to John's chest, licking his lips

“Definitely an improvement…” Sherlock nodded and pushed himself off of the wall, taking a step forward. “However, those trousers are rather in the way, don't you think?”

Instead of taking his trousers off and continuing to play Sherlock's game, John took a step forward and attempted to grab hold of Sherlock's arm. Anticipating the move, Sherlock stepped through the door and slid into the hall, ready to circle back into the kitchen.

“Fine, fine…” John laughed while holding up his hands in surrender. “However, I think it would be best if you took them off for me, I might, er, do it wrong.”  Half of John's face curled up into a smile as he saw Sherlock's eyes go wide with interest.

“Hands behind your head, and then I will consider it.” Sherlock huffed and shook his head, as if the very thought of undressing John was a tedious chore.

“Fine, you git. This better?” John folded his arms behind his head and stood with his feet planted a foot apart on the floor.

“That should be sufficient. However, move them, and you will _not_ be able to catch me until my heat has officially started. You’ll miss out on snogging me half to death while we wait.”

“Well,” John sighed and felt his knees go weak as Sherlock stepped closer, “we can’t have that, can we?”

“Most certainly not.” Sherlock agreed in his baritone voice as he sank to his knees in front of John. “How well can you balance?” Sherlock smirked up as he tapped John’s left foot, indicating he should lift it off the ground to allow the removal of his shoe. Thankfully for John, Sherlock was swift at undoing the laces, and allowed John to toe off his shoes on his own behalf. Once his shoes were removed, Sherlock slid his hands up John’s legs, closed his eyes and buried his nose in John’s crotch as he inhaled.

“Jesus…” John cursed and fought both the urge to buck into Sherlock’s face and grab his head, holding him there tightly. Instead he laced his fingers together behind his neck and bit his bottom lip as Sherlock nosed his way over his cock.

“Your self control is admirable, Doctor.” Sherlock purred, still sliding his nose over the outline of John’s erection. “I hope you leave it at the door when you enter my bedroom.”

“I certainly intend to, Sherlock.” John groaned and ever so gently rolled his hips against Sherlock’s face. The detective pulled away tutting, but looked amused all the same. Without saying a word Sherlock slid his hands over John’s hips, stopping when his long fingers touched his zip.

“If I remember correctly, you were a gentleman last night and I fell asleep before getting the chance to give this,” Sherlock slid the zipper down and pushed John’s trousers and pants down his thighs, “any attention.” he looked up at John his eyes blown wide with arousal, and held John’s gaze as his lips wrapped around the tip of John’s cock. Sherlock knew his cock was bigger than the average Omega, but compared to John… God was John huge, he was 28 centimeters long easily, and 7 or 8 in girth, and once his knot formed… the thought made Sherlock groan in pleasure around John.

“Jesus!” John cursed again and had to tighten his grip until his nails were biting into the backs of his hands.

“Just call me Sherlock.” Sherlock winked then bent down to suck in nearly half of John’s length in one go. John’s reply was drowned out  and replaced with a low keen as Sherlock flattened his tongue against the underside of his cock. Sherlock clearly had been paying attention the night before, because he soon began mimicking the techniques John had used on him with an expertise that surprised him.

“Sherlock…” John breathed, looking down to see that dark curly hair bobbing up and down over his cock. “Add a bit of suction.. God, yeah, just like that.” He groaned loudly as Sherlock’s cheeks hollowed out just before he pulled of with a deliciously indecent pop. “Keep that up, Mr. Holmes, and I might make a mess in your mouth.”

“Well, Doctor Watson, that is my intention.” Sherlock waggled his eyebrows playfully before taking in even more of John’s throbbing cock into his mouth. For several long minutes John watched, wanting desperately to touch. He watched as Sherlock leaned back and regarded his cock for a few seconds as if trying to determine whether or not he liked the taste. Then, apparently decided he did, he reached up with his right hand and stroked the shaft as his tongue teased his tip.

“Sherlock Holmes, if you don’t hurry up what you’re doing, I’m going to grab your head and push my cock so far down your throat you won't be able to breath.” John growled and sharply bucked his hips causing his cock to slip into Sherlock’s open mouth. Sherlock rolled his eyes, as if telling John to shut up, but tightened his lips around his width.

Sherlock soon fell into a steady rhythm, as his head bobbed up, his hand followed. As he bobbed down, his hand pushed its way all the way down to the base of his cock and tightened. Soon sounds of Sherlock slurping and sucking were echoing through the room, and John honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed a blowjob as much as he was enjoying this. Just as he was getting thoroughly lost in his enjoyment Sherlock quickened his pace and it was only a matter of seconds before John felt himself being thrown over the point of no return.

For as fast as it happened, John’s orgasm lasted an eternity. It started deep in his gut, a warm tingly feeling that John wished he could bottle up and hold onto for dark days. Then it was as if someone had held a match under it, lighting his entire being on fire. His vision went white, his ears rang, and it was a wonder he didn’t break a finger with how tightly he was clasping them behind his head. He tried to pay attention, to show at least some tact, but in the end, it was all he could to to remain upright as Sherlock milked him for everything he was worth. He didn’t even notice that Sherlock had stood, or that he was gently leading John to the sofa. It wasn’t until Sherlock was pressing a cool towel to John’s inner thigh that he realized where he was and what was going on.

“Sherlock… that was…”

“Mind blowing?” Sherlock smirked as he continued to clean up the mess he had just encouraged.

“It certainly blew something. That’s for sure. Well, you did, at any rate.”

“How eloquent, John.” Sherlock snorted and tossed the flannel aside in favor of curling up in John’s lap.

“So, when you think you’ll become less of a dick, and more quiet and pliable?”

“Quiet? I hardly think I’ll be quiet.” Sherlock chuckled and nuzzled his face gently against John’s sensitive crotch.

“God, I hope not.” John grinned and leaned back against the cool leather sofa, and for a while both of them were content to simply stay there, relaxed in each other’s company.

“John?” Sherlock broke the silence after a while, looking up into John’s relaxed face, tracing the crows feet around the corners of his eyes, surprised at just how much affection he felt for the man.

“Mmm?” John gently scraped his fingernails over Sherlock’s scalp, but kept his eyes closed.

“How come it was worse, before. In the car, and… at the club? How come…” Sherlock trailed off not wanting to remember how his body had reacted to the other Alpha, how it had been ready to accept anyone but John.

“Stress, Bumble. Stress just before an Omega’s heat always messes around with shit. That, and when they injected you with Alpha serum, that helped kick up your heat a notch or two. I suspect that now that we’re home, in your own territory, your body has begun to slow down a bit.”

“I see…”

“Which reminds me.” John yawned and stretched, gently shifting a leg to let Sherlock know he wanted to get up. “We should both shower, eat something, and take a nap before things get… well… intense.”  As he stood up he stretched, his arms reaching far above his head, showing off his muscular back to Sherlock. And for a fleeting moment, Sherlock puffed up with pride, thinking that John Watson was a man he’d be happy to have children with.

“John, do you want children?” he blurted out before John had even taken a step. He watched as John’s back straightened and his shoulders tensed. He knew the very few times they’d talked about children, both having them and other people’s children, the conversation had been tense and heated.(Sherlock always arguing that he had more important things to do with his time then tend to children.) He quickly moved off the sofa and pressed his stomach against John’s back, and rested his chin on John’s left shoulder.

“I don’t mean right now… but, if perhaps we found ourselves… willing. Would you want them, with me?” he whispered against John’s ear, heart racing in his chest hardly daring to hope that John’s answer would be positive. So when John’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned his head back so it was resting against his, he smiled.

“Of course I would be willing. But it’s not something to discuss now, not when we’re both slightly fuzzy around the edges.” John turned around and pulled Sherlock into an embrace. “But I promise you, we will talk about it. But for now, I’ve purchased enough condoms to last us until their expiration date.”

“Are you sure about that, John?” Sherlock chuckled and nibbled playfully on John’s earlobe. “Now that I’ve tasted both receiving and giving orgasms, I think you underestimate just how often orgams will be happening in this flat.”

“Shameless, as always.” John laughed and pulled away to flash Sherlock a fond smile. “Now, before I get it in my mind to bend you over my chair, go shower and I’ll get us something to eat.”

“Bossy, as always…” Sherlock rolled his eyes and flicked his hand dismissively, but walked off into the shower, swaying his hips purposefully as he moved. It was all John could to do watch him walk away as he fought every instinct to grab Sherlock and take him to bed then and there. But his nurturing side took over once again, knowing full well that they would both need something high in protein if they were going to make it through the next few days.

“Hurry up, will you? I do believe you promised me a snog!” John called out, just as the bathroom door clicked shut.  

**One hour later**

Sherlock's plate hit the bottom of the sink with a loud clatter, but it wasn't exactly his fault. Just has he has begun to deposit his dish, John had snuck up behind him and pinched his arse. Sherlock spun around and felt himself melt as John's expression went from playful to full blown affection.

John's hands slid over Sherlock's hips and he pulled the detective close, so close that their noses touched and they were breathing each other's air. John let his hands roam up Sherlock's muscular back, and down to his plush arse cheeks. Grabbing two fistfuls of arse John signed and nuzzled their noses together.

“All these years, it's like I was building a puzzle with only half the pieces. You're my missing half, Sherlock.” John tilted his head to the left and leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a kiss that spoke more than words.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss and brought his hands up to take hold of John’s head. Their hips touched, and while their cocks were undoubtedly interested, this kiss was not sexual by nature. It was their version of assuring each other that everything was alright, that they were both alright, and more importantly, that they were both loved.

“Now, Mr. Holmes.” John sighed as he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. “Is that alright?”

“Oh god yes.” Sherlock smiled and allowed John to lead him into the bedroom, when the door closed they both looked at each other and giggled.

“Should this be awkward? Me, leading you in here knowing full well that we’ll be banging for the next three or four days?”

“Banging?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his hands on his bony hips. “Seriously, John. It’s like romance is dead.” he moved over to the bed, but instead of getting on it, he began tugging at the mattress. “Help me move this,” he jutted his chin out to the far corner “over there.”

“Uh, why?” John asked as he gave Sherlock a confused look, but began helping him move the mattress.

“Because, I don’t relish the idea of breaking my bed frame, John!” Sherlock rolled his eyes again, but smirked at John’s face as John began picturing the activities that could possibly break a bed. As soon as the mattress was on the floor John moved to the nightstand where he pulled out the condoms and tossed both packs to Sherlock. Sherlock caught them both and looked up at John with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

“You got condoms for… me? Why?”

“Because, Sherlock,” John stepped close and gently guided Sherlock down onto their new nest of mattress and blankets, “I might want you to bang me.” John winked as he crawled over Sherlock, pulling his hands far above their heads and letting out a guttural moan at the sight of Sherlock stretched beneath him.

“Remind me to get you a thesaurus for christmas.” Sherlock mumbled moments before John’s lips touched his neck, capturing his pulse point.

“Remind me to find your sweet spot, the spot that makes you shut up.” John mumbled as he nipped his way along Sherlock’s throat, grinning as Sherlock gave a little moan of pleasure.

“John…” Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him close. “Why aren’t we having sex yet?”

“Because, Sherlock,” John spoke as he continued kissing Sherlock’s neck and upper chest, “you aren’t ready yet. If I were to give you my knot right now, I would hurt you. Which is why I say we sleep for now.”  John abandoned Sherlock’s neck in favor of burying his nose in Sherlock’s hair, inhaling deeply. “God you smell fantastic. Can I keep you?”

“Always John.” Sherlock rumbled as he relaxed into John’s embrace. The stress of the day began fading as John’s hands roved over his back and shoulders. Sherlock had always prided himself in the fact that he did not need anyone to survive. He’d made it to his late 20’s without requiring an Alpha, but now in John’s arms, after a day that even he was admit was stressful,  Sherlock found himself relaxed and happy.

“I love you, John Watson.” Sherlock murmured as he buried himself deeper into John’s embrace, and when John returned the endearment Sherlock’s face broke into an ear splitting grin.

“Love you too, Bumble… now get some rest. You’ll need your energy.”

For a moment John thought Sherlock had taken his advice, but after a while he yawned and nuzzled his face against John’s chest.

“Tell me, how did you found me so fast?” John smiled grimly and held Sherlock as close as he dared, not wanting to hurt him.

“Our bond… somehow I knew you were in trouble. Sherlock, it was like all the life was sucked out of me, like I’d never be happy again. As soon as I was able to pull myself together I called your brother, and surprisingly he took me seriously. We found your mobile at the hospital… that recording… very clever.”

  
“Yes, well, I _am_ clever.”

“Extremely, darling.” John smirked at Sherlock’s lack of humility and kissed his temple.”

“From there, it didn’t take us long to trace your movements from the previous day. Mycroft had a team put together in under 30 minutes. And then… well, you know what happened once we got there.”

“And Violet?”

“Your brother’s men found her. I was so concerned about you, that I’m afraid I don’t know any more than that. But, we’ll ask later.”

“Mm…” Sherlock nodded against John’s chest and let out a deep sigh. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Always…” John kissed Sherlock again and smiled as Sherlock’s breathing deepened as his detective fell asleep in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

John woke up three hours later to the feeling of Sherlock writing beside him. For one terrible moment moment John thought Sherlock was in trouble, but as soon as he sat up and began looking for an intruder. However, once he’d shaken off the fog of sleep his senses came back online and he was hit with the overpowering scent of Sherlock. Only it was Sherlock like he’d never smelled before.

Normally, Sherlock smelled like his crisp suits, like clean cotton. Over the past day and a half, his scent had changed to include hints of spice and cinnamon. Now, christ, now Sherlock smelled like heaven. Like someone had drizzled honey and cinnamon over buttered toast. Without giving personal space a second thought John surged forward crawled over his Omega. The moment he was looming over him, Sherlock’s thrashing stopped and he looking up at John with pleading eyes.

“Don’t worry, Sherlock… I’ve got you. Whatever you need.” John nosed his way down Sherlock’s neck, breathing deeply every time he came across a scent gland. John continued sniffing, and kissing, until he reached Sherlock’s belly button. Pulling up he ran his hands down Sherlock’s thighs and felt his self control fly out the window at the way Sherlock’s body responded to his touch. As John’s thumbs brushed against Sherlock’s inner thigh Sherlock let out a low howl and his whole body canted towards John.

Sherlock shoved a hand between their bodies, wrapped his long fingers around his prick and spread his thighs, permeating John’s nose with the scent of his sweet smelling lubricant. One strong wiff of it and John’s eyes dilated, and John felt the spongy skin at the base of his cock begin to swell. He’d only felt this happen once before, during puberty, Then, there had been no relief, and for days John had suffered through the constant agony of being horny for three full days. Now, however, he had an Omega, _his Omega,_ and together they would help each other.

“Sherlock, are you sure you want this?” John meant for his voice to sound soft, kind, loving. But instead it came out as a low growl that made Sherlock’s whole body shiver.

“Yes, John. I want this. Now please!”

“Please what, Sherlock?” John smirked knowing that if he wanted to make Sherlock beg, now would be his only chance. He reached over and tore open the box of condoms with clumsy movements, and somehow managed to open and put a condom on without much difficulty.

“Pllleeaassee.” Sherlock whined, not even caring that he was putty in John’s hands. “Please, John... “

“All I’m hearing, Sherlock,” John growled as he pulled Sherlock’s legs further apart and positioned himself on his knees between Sherlock’s legs, “is please. So, I’ll repeat. Please, what?”

“Jesus! Just fuck me!” Sherlock cried out and let go of his cock long enough to reach between his cheeks and dip his fingers into his own slick lube then continued stroking himself. One look at Sherlock shamelessly pleasing himself was enough to tip John over the edge. John grabbed both of Sherlock’s legs and roughly pulled his mate close enough that the tip of his cock nudged against Sherlock’s balls. Sherlock gasped at the touch, but when John moved it lower over his perineum and slid against his hole.

John took one good long look at Sherlock before he took hold of his cock and gave his hips a tentative thrust. Warm heat engulfed his tip and John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He pushed in further, surprised at with how tight Sherlock was he was met with no resistance. Quite the opposite, really. Sherlock canted forward, encouraging John to stop thinking and to act.

With a deep growl John thrusted his hips forward and watched as Sherlock bit his bottom lip as a moan escaped him. As if fueled by the sexual sounds made by Sherlock Holmes, John lowered his body down on Sherlock’s and pressed their mouths together, swallowing yet another sexy moan. And then, he began to move inside Sherlock. If he thought Sherlock’s moans were sexy, the cries and grunts that began spilling from his mates mouth were downright indecent. His new goal in life was to continue being the reason Sherlock was making such dirty sounds.

John let go of Sherlock’s hands and took hol of his face as he dipped his tongue into Sherlock’s open mouth. He let out a moan of his own as Sherlock’s tongue circled around his. Sherlock was tighter around him than anything he’d ever felt before and the wet slide was driving him mad, so when Sherlock began rocking his hips up to meet him John let out a growl.

“Bloody hell…” He pulled away from Sherlock’s mouth and rested his head on the bed beside Sherlock’s, pressing sloppy kisses to Sherlock’s neck and ears. “You’re driving me mad…”

“Think how I feel, John…” Sherlock groaned  as he attempted to quicken the pace, rocking his hips in a now uneven rhythm “I need your knot, and you wont fucking give it to me.” Sherlock’s voice was so desperate that John had to laugh.

“Sweetheart, my knot isn’t fully formed yet. Now if you don’t stop being bossy, you’ll ruin the mood.”

“Nonsense, I’m letting off enough pheromones that Anderson could walk in here and your erection wouldn’t flag.”

“Sherlock… stop… talking!” John growled and began kissing him once again. Sherlock seemed to approve of this because his hands found their way to the back of John’s head and he held his Alpha in such a strong grip that John wasn’t sure he could get out if he actually wanted too. Suddenly Sherlock shifted their position, with one strong twist he had John on his back blinking up at him.

“How.. did?”

“Just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean I’m weak, John.” Sherlock winked then sat up straight. With both hands seductively playing with his hair he began riding John’s cock. John watched as the muscles in Sherlock’s thighs rippled, watched the way Sherlock’s cock bobbed up and down, he felt Sherlock’s precum as it dripped onto his lower abdomen. Sherlock was always a sight to behold, but now, now he was something straight out of a sexual fantasy.

John reached out and placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips, partly to see if the vision in front of him was real, and partly to help Sherlock. With John’s help, Sherlock’s bouncing became faster, and he added in a little roll of his hips every time he was fully seated on John’s cock, making John’s vision swim. As he watched Sherlock, he noticed that his knot was swelling beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. Sherlock seemed to have realized this as well, because with each thrust down he would grind hard against John’s knot. With each grind, he took in more and more of John’s knot, until with a low moan it slipped inside him.

“Fuucck…” John dug his fingernails into Sherlock’s hips and held him still as his body grew used to this new feeling. Sherlock, however, was in no mood to stay still. Breaking out of John’s grip he began to roll his hips back and forth, sliding over John’s body while tightening his muscles around John. “Keep that up, Sherlock, and I’m going to cum…”

“That is…” Sherlock grunted as he leaned forward placing both hands on John’s chest for support, “mostly the point.” He lifted his head long enough to flash John a filthy grin.

“Good, then get over here!” John barked and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back pulling him flat against his chest. Sherlock allowed himself to be manhandled and when John had finished moving him about, John could just reach his neck where his bite mark was. Neither men said anything, Sherlock for his part, now having received John’s knot, was too far gone to chat while John was wondering if he should warn Sherlock that he was about to bite him again.

Sherlock continued grinding down on John’s cock, now making little breathy moaning noises into John’s ear. But when he let out a long drawn out “Fuuuccckkkkkkkkk, John….” All of John’s thoughts were thrown out the window. With two hard thrusts up into Sherlock he felt his his balls tighten. As the firsts spurts of cum filled the condom John grabbed hold of Sherlock’s neck and sunk his teeth into the same spot. Sherlock’s body began to tremble in his grip and hot liquid was sprayed onto John’s stomach and he gave a sharp cry of pleasure.

Throughout the entirety of their orgasm John’s teeth remained clamped on Sherlock’s neck, but when his knot began to dissipate John released his jaw and began lapping up the blood trickling down Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock purred as John lavished him with attention, running his tongue over their bonding mark and nuzzling his nose into Sherlock’s hair as he whispered sweet endearments. They stayed like that for some time, dozing off in each other’s arms until John’s body began to grow stiff. With a bit of apprehension John gave his hips a little flick and relaxed when he slipped out of Sherlock with ease. He rolled off the used condom, tied the end in a knot and tossed it aside.

“Bumble? How are you feeling?” John purred into Sherlock’s ear then rolled onto his side in order to see Sherlock better. Sherlock opened one brilliantly blue eye and sighed deeply as he smiled.

“Just fine, John… Bit thirsty though.” He began to drape himself over John’s body and let out a little whimper when John stopped him.

“Let me get up, get you some water, and then you can do whatever you’d like to me.” John smiled as he got on his hands and knees, leaning low to press kiss to Sherlock’s forehead.

Less than one minute later John returned carrying two bottles of cold water. As he crawled into bed he smirked and pressed one of the cold bottles against the back of Sherlock’s neck and laughed when Sherlock hissed in surprise.

“Bastard.” Sherlock mumbled as he turned around to snatch the water out of John’s hands. When their fingers met around the bottle John was filled with an overwhelming feeling of joy and love, so much that he couldn’t help but smile and hold up his hands in apology. Sherlock smirked and sat up as he cracked open the cap, taking a long sip before replacing the cover.

“Wait… that… feeling? Did you just make me feel that?” John cocked his head and stared at Sherlock, his smirk having made him suspicious.

“Oh, you mean this?” Sherlock’s eyes softened and again John was overcome with the same feeling of love.

“Bastard! You’re going to use that on me to get your own way from now on, aren't’ you?” John groaned as he realized just how easily he’d fallen for one of Sherlock’s tricks.

“It’s only fair, John. Going forward, it’ll be hard for me to ignore a direct order from you. So I have a few… shall we say built in defense mechanisms that allow me to take care of myself. But for now, I would very much like it if you would put on another condom and make love to me. Only, do be a bit rougher this time. I won't break.”

“Is that a challenge?” John grinned and tossed his water bottle aside in favor of rolling on a second condom.

“Perhaps…” Sherlock flopped onto his stomach and looked back over his shoulder as he reached back and pulled his cheeks apart.

“Jesus…”

“The name is Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock’s chuckle turned into a moan as John mounted him from behind and pushed all the way in with one swift thrust. As he began to pound into Sherlock John grabbed one strong fistful of arse and placed his hand on the small of Sherlock's back, preventing him from moving. Sherlock's heart raced, he'd never before been this submissive and he found it rather thrilling knowing he was in John's full control. A high pitched moaning began to fill the room, and it wasn't until he heard John began to grunt that Sherlock realized he was the one moaning

“Look at you, Sherlock…” John grunted as he slammed his cock hard into Sherlock's hole. “You're fucking gorgeous, moaning as I'm fucking you. Knowing full well that I'm going to knot you.”

John's words sent a shiver over Sherlock's body and he nodded so hard it hurt. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he should respond, that he should tell John just how much he liked his cock, but when he opened his mouth instead of words a loud keen spilled from his lips. As the noise filled the room John growled and thrust in harder, his knot pushing against Sherlock's entrance for a moment before Sherlock thrust back, crying out when it slipped inside him and locked his and John's body in place.

“Fuck yes!” Sherlock screamed as he sank back onto the bed, rocking his hips against the mattress, desperate for any friction the bed had to offer. It didn't take much for Sherlock to succumb to his Carnal desires. Another thirty seconds of John grinding into him and he was cumming hard against the bed. His muscles tightening around John's cock as if silently begging his partner to join him in ecstasy.  

It was like a switch had gone off in John's body. Sherlock's moans hit his ears like the sweetest music he's ever heard. Sherlock contracted around him and it was all he needed to tip over the brink, to join his mate. He can hard, shouting Sherlock's name as he fell forward onto Sherlock's back. He rocked and rolled his hips, filling the condom as he moaned.

When they finally stopped shaking and had caught their breath John carefully rolled them both onto their sides, stroking Sherlock's arm and he let out a pleased chuckle. Smiling, Sherlock shifted a bit, pressing his body more firmly against John's, gave a happy sigh then slipped into a deep sleep with his Alpha’s arms wrapped around him.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock woke up completely dazed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, or how long he’d been in bed with John. He just knew that every part of him was covered with bite marks, bruises, and his own ejaculate. Worst of all though, he was hungry. Making himself think through the haze of his heat, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since John had brought him back home, and that had to at least have been 12 hours ago.

He looked over at John, who was asleep on his back, one hand tucked behind his head while the other rested on his chest and found himself torn between waking John up by sinking down on his cock, or going to get food. Before he could make up his mind, however, John’s stomach gave a loud gurgle and Sherlock sighed, knowing the answer should be food if they wanted to have the energy to carry on.

“John?” Sherlock sat up and stretched then moved out of John’s reach, knowing full well that when he woke John would reach for him and they’d never make it to the kitchen. John stirred, but didn’t wake, so Sherlock tried again, this time a bit louder.

“John, wake up. We need to eat.”

“God, did you mention food?” John groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before reaching out for his mate. “Sherlock, c’mere. Five minutes, Just want to cuddle.”

“If by cuddle, you mean shove your cock up my arse, then no. We need food.”  John grumbled for a minute but didn’t argue when his stomach gave another audible growl. “Please tell me that my new Alpha thought to provide us with food for the next few days?”

“Actually, he did. While his Omega was out getting himself kidnapped, he was at the shops. Get your arse up and we’ll go make ourselves a sandwich.” With more resolve than he knew was in him, John pulled himself to his feet,  ignoring the urge to crawl over Sherlock and knot him. Instead he stood, and let out a low groan as he stretched his neck from side to side and tested the rest of his sore muscles.

“Jesus, I feel like I’ve just been hit by a double-decker buss. And we’re only on day one!”

“Getting weak in your old age?” Sherlock smirked, but his smirk faded into a grimace as he stood and felt just how very sore his legs were.

“No more than you, I assume.” John laughed wholeheartedly before grabbing Sherlock’s hand and dragging him into the kitchen. “Help me, will you? Not sure how much longer we’ll remain lucid. They spent the next five minutes moving around the kitchen in unison gathering the ingredients for sandwiches, and while Sherlock put them together, John began cutting fruit up into small bite size pieces. John was just about to ask if they wanted to take the food back into the bedroom when Sherlock pulled out a chair and sat down with a groan.

“Sex is tedious.” he peeled off the crust on his bread and tossed it aside, then took a bite of the sandwich and hummed appreciatively.

“So, you don’t like it?” John raised his eyebrows and watched as he too began to eat.

“I didn’t say that, John. Just that it is tedious, and messy. Also, I am in perfect health and physique, so why am I so bloody sore! No, don’t answer that, John. I know why.” Sherlock added as John began to open his mouth. In answer, I do enjoy it. More than I thought I would, at any rate.” Sherlock smiled fondly over at John and added, “I’m sure my choice of partner plays in key factor in my like for it, though.”

John grinned over at Sherlock and shook his head, they were discussing sex over a meal just like they would a case, and it felt perfectly normal. Everything felt perfectly normal with Sherlock though. Even running around London at two in the morning chasing after jewel thieves felt normal to them. They finished their sandwiches in silence then began picking on the fruit. Every so often their hands would touch when they both reached into the bowl at the same time, and John would feel an electric current run through his body. After that happening half a dozen times Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and stood up from the table so quickly he had to throw his hands out and brace himself against the table top.

“Get over here and fuck me!” He glared at John and bent himself over the table, wiggling his arse in the air shamelessly showing it off.

“Sh’rlock..” John somehow managed to not choke on the grape he’d just popped in his mouth and he swallowed quickly. “Let me go get a condom.”

“Fuck that, just get over here!” Sherlock growled at his Alpha and rolled his eyes at John’s expression. “Yes, I understand the risks. But as I highly doubt ever wanting to go through another heat, now is our only chance to try for a child. Plus, getting pregnant would shorten my heat. So get over here, John Watson, and fuck me!”

“Right…” John stood, still on the far side of the table, and stared at Sherlock, who was now glaring at him as if John has just insulted his mother. However, when Sherlock let out a very loud, and very frustrated grunt, John scrambled around the table and stood grabbed hold of Sherlock’s hips and lined himself up.

They both let out a guttural moan as John pushed himself in with one strong thrust. Entering Sherlock without a condom was better than John thought possible. He slid in to the hilt and stayed there, grunting as Sherlock’s muscles contracted around him.

“God this… this position…” John hissed through clenched teeth as he kicked Sherlock’s legs open further and slammed in with everything he had. John took Sherlock’s scream as agreement that this new position was rather spectacular and with Sherlock’s continued screams ringing in his ear John stopped thinking and gave into his carnal desires and filled their kitchen with the wet slapping noises of two bodies being brought together.

John knew that between this new position, and Sherlock endless screams, he wasn’t going to last long. So, deciding to make the best of this position, John let go of Sherlock’s hips in favor of leaning forward and grabbing hold of the table. This new leverage allowed him to flick his hip up with every inward thrust which made Sherlock practically sing and his knot began to swell again.

“John, FUCK right there! God right there! FUCK!” John was thrusting into Sherlock so hard that the table was moving across the kitchen floor, heading towards the counter fast, and picking up speed as John had to move to keep up with it. As soon as the table had stopped moving, John let go of the table and pulled Sherlock’s cheeks open wide, and watched as his knot disappeared inside his mate with a satisfying wet pop.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Sherlock shouted so loud that anyone walking past on the street would have been able to hear. “Oh GOD! FUCK!” And with that Sherlock was cumming, thick spurts of cum hitting the underside of the table, the side of the counter and the floor. It didn’t take long for John to follow, and as he came inside his mate he gave a shout of his own at the sensation of Sherlock’s body literally milking him for everything he was worth. When he’d finally given Sherlock everything he had, he fell forward and pressed tired sloppy kisses to Sherlock’s shoulder blades, panting between each kiss.

“I can’t believe you’d rather be pregnant, then spend four days having sex.”

“No?” Sherlock’s voice rumbled, rich with amusement. “But when I’m pregnant, John, you’ll wait on me hand and foot. That sounds so much better than endless sex.” Sherlock yawned and stretched his arms out to either side, resting his palms flat against the table.

“Crazy git.” John smiled fondly and laced his fingers with Sherlock’s. They must have stayed like that for ten minutes, because John was just beginning to wonder when his knot would shrink when Sherlock perked his head up and looked towards their lounge.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what, Sherlock?” John sighed, then gave a cry of surprise as Sherlock pushed both of them away from the table and, with John’s knot still firmly inside him, began pulling a grumbling John with him into the lounge.

It was difficult, walking with his dick literally suck inside Sherlock, but they made it to the window without maiming each other. Once the curtain was within reach Sherlock pulled it open and pressed his face against the window.

“What the hell, Sherlock…” John murmured and tried to pull Sherlock away from the prying eyes on the street. But then he heard it, sirens coming from the main road.

“Oi, really, Sherlock?” John groaned and inadvertently thrust his hips, rolling his eyes as Sherlock pressed his body against the window and moaned. “What, you enjoy getting fucked for everyone to see?” John leaned in close and pressed his mouth against Sherlock’s ear and continued whispering. “All that talk before, was nothing but talk, wasn’t it? You love this, love my cock so deep in your arse you can taste it. Getting fucked against the window. Don’t you?”

“Fuck yes!” Sherlock growled and pushed back against John. “So fuck me, Doctor!”

“GOD!” John growled and grabbed Sherlock’s hair, pulling his head back and sucking a mark onto Sherlock’s perfectly smooth skin. “Then show me how much you want my cock. Come on!” John purred into Sherlock’s ear, biting on his earlobe for emphasis. Just as Sherlock began to thrust himself backwards onto John’s cock there was a loud clatter from the street. “Come on, Sherlock, give them a show.”

“Fuuuccckkkk!” Sherlock gasped and with a violent shudder came all over the window just as the door behind them burst open.

“John, Sherlock? Is everything alright… Oh…” John’s groan was cut short by the sound of D.I. Lestrade’s voice cut into the room.

“What the fuck!?” John twisted his neck around and bared his teeth at the the rather embarrassed looking man standing in their door.

“Sorry, mate… I got a call. Someone reported a domestic… When I heard it was at Baker Street, I assumed the worst and volunteered to check it out.” Lestrade groaned and took a step back. “I didn’t realize.... Mate, I’m sorry. I’ll er, see myself out.” As Lestrade’s footsteps faded away John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and began laughing.

“Sherlock, we just had the cops called on us.” John continued giggling and pulled Sherlock away from the window. “Lestrade walked in on us as I was cumming… inside you.” Sherlock joined in on the laughter and shuddered as John slipped out of him.

“Right, that’s it. We’re finishing this in the bedroom. Having Lestrade walk in on us is one thing, but… anyone else from the yard.” John shook his head and tugged Sherlock towards the bedroom. John pulled his giggling mate into the bedroom and shut the door with a sigh. Sherlock, still laughing, and a bit sexed out, stumbled forward, catching himself on his wardrobe. Face pressed against the full length mirror, arse way out in the air.

“Stay right there, Sherlock. Don’t move, don’t even breath.”  John snarled and stalked up behind Sherlock. “I want you to watch me….”  By the time John was finished with Sherlock the wardrobe was broken in three places, the door was hanging on hinge and the mirror was cracked down the center, and Sherlock was totally and thoroughly debauched.

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock, I bloody love you.”

  


**Two Days Later**

 

It took them nearly 6 hours to clean up the mess that they’d made. Some of the damage had been too extensive, and John noted with a tiny bit of pride that they would need a new wardrobe for Sherlock’s room as the current one was lying in pieces on the floor. As he stood smirking at the broken pieces of wood, Sherlock’s laughter from the lounge caught his attention.

“John! You must see this!” Sherlock was laughing so hard that John almost asked him to repeat what he’d just said, but when he walked into the room and saw what he was pointing too, he immediately bent over, clutching at his sides as he began to laugh. Apparently, before Lestrade had interrupted them, one, or both of them, had managed to smear a very large quantity of seamen on both the window _and_ the curtains.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to wash seamen out of a curtain, would you, John?” Sherlock’s eyes twinkled as he tried his best to compose himself.

“I say, throw it in the wash with the rest of our bedding… Hopefully it comes out.” John shook his head and took a step closer to the window. “Jesus, I wonder who saw us…” he turned around and raised his eyebrows as Sherlock began laughing again. “You wash this off, and I’ll go start the first load of laundry…. It appears that’s all we’ll be doing today.” As he walked past his mate Sherlock reached out and pulled John into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of John’s head.

“John Watson, I love you.”

“I love you too.” John sighed and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back, doing his best not to feel a little sad that instead of smooth skin his fingers were now brushing over the crisp fabric of his suit.

“Now go, start laundry and call Mrs. Hudson, tell her it is officially safe for her to come home while I call Mycroft, I want to hear how the case ended.”

“We should check in on Vikki and Violet as well…. See how things are there.” John added as he stooped to pick up the overflowing laundry basket.

“I agree.” Sherlock pulled one of the chairs over from the table and leaped onto it with light feet and began to remove the curtain. “I am curious to see how Victor will be, now that his favorite gambling hall has been shut down.” He tossed the curtain to John then pulled out his mobile, dialing his brother’s number as John closed the door behind him.

 _“Hello brother, how are you!”_ Sherlock rolled his eyes as he forced himself to sound cheerful.

 _“I think the real question, Sherlock, is how are you?”_ Mycroft drawled into the phone.

 _“I’m fine.”_ Sherlock snapped, _“Now, are you going to tell me how my case ended?”_

_“Sherlock, is it not enough to know that everything has been taken care of, and that thanks to you, half a dozen Omegas have been returned to their families?”_

_“You know that is not how I work!”_ Sherlock growled and began pacing the flat, looking up startled when there was a knock on the door. Knowing it was Mycroft he placed his mobile in his pocket and pulled the door open.

“Do come in, Mycroft. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Is there a _safe_ place to sit?” Mycroft sniffed and looked around.

“If you’re asking if there is a place where John and I have not had sex, then any of the chairs in the lounge is _safe_.” Sherlock smirked at the way his brother gingerly moved through the flat and sat in John’s chair. John’s chair was slightly broken, thus making it the least ideal place to have sex and Mycroft knew this. Mycroft sat down with a sigh and crossed his legs.

“Sherlock?” John called up the stairs. Mycroft had left the door open, and judging by the sound in John’s voice he was still on edge. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock smiled at his mate as John entered the kitchen. “My brother is here.”

“Ahh…” John nodded, then gave Sherlock a confused look. “What for?”

“The case, John! I need to know about the case!”

“Right.” John nodded and glanced at the kettle. “Want me to take over?”

“Yes, thank you, John.” Sherlock flashed John a fond smile before straightening his suit and stepping into the lounge, planting himself in his chair with air of superiority.

“So, Mycroft. Are you going to tell me how my case ended?”

“Of course, Sherlock.” Mycroft glared down his nose at Sherlock and turned his head slightly to the left. “Doctor Watson, I assume you’ll want to hear this as well, as you were rather occupied at the time.”

“Mmm.” John nodded as he handed Sherlock a cup of tea, then Mycroft and pulled one of the wooden chairs to sit beside Sherlock.

“So, as you know, John, my men entered the basement with us. And while our mission was to find Sherlock, theirs was to fan out and search. On top of a very large amount of drugs, they found Violet and four other Omegas. Violet was the youngest, the other four were between 10  and 14.”

“Had they been…” John shifted in his chair and swallowed hard.

“Other than scared, all five of them were fine, John.”

Both Sherlock and John relaxed and Mycroft continued.

“Violet was reunited with her mother within the hour, the other 4 were not as easy, but rest assured, we have found their families.” Mycroft paused to take a sip of his tea then continued. “Seven men are in jail, the club has been shut down, and I have been told that London General is pleading ignorance.”

“Surely you won't let them get away that easily?”

  
“Of course not, but going up against London’s best hospital is a rather delicate task, John.” Mycroft regarded John with his cool eyes then made to stand up.

“So, that’s it?” John stood as well and reached out to shake Mycroft’s hand.

“That’s it. Unless you want to deal with the paperwork, or police statements.” John gave Sherlock one look then snorted.

“Not likely.” John shook his head and grinned. “Well, I guess all that is left is to go see the Fowler’s and see how they’re doing. “

“I wouldn’t if I were you, John. The Fowler’s are attempting to rebuild their little family. Adding another Alpha into the mix could tip the scales out of their favor.”

“Even if said Alpha has a pregnant Omega with him?” Sherlock smirked and watched with satisfaction as Mycroft paled.

“Certainly you took precautions.” Mycroft stared at John who was looking just as smug as Sherlock.

“Of course.  That is, we did until your brother practically strong armed me to throw caution to the wind.” John began with a serious face and snorted his laughter when Mycroft wrinkled his nose and glared at them.

“Spare me the details. Even so, pregnant or not, anyone entering the Fowler residence has the chance of upsetting the family during this time. I do believe it is best to simply wait and see if they call you. Plus, aren't you two better off here, safe territory, as your bond settles in?” Mycroft brushed off his suit jacket and took a step towards the door, “Now if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork at the yard to attend too.”

“Oh, Mycroft. Do us a favor?” Sherlock winked at John behind Mycroft's back, “Tell Lestrade it's safe for him to come over now.”

Once left alone in the flat, with nothing to do but wait for it to be time to switch their laundry over to the dryer, John moved over to his chair and sat back with a groan.

“He is right, you know. If we were to go out in public I'd probably snarl at anyone who even looked at you. Between the new bond, and the probably pregnant thing…. I'm unfortunately going to be very protective of you. It's something I'll learn to deal with, but right now, the idea of leaving the flat makes me want to lock us both up in the bedroom.”

Before Sherlock could reply his stomach gave a loud growl and John noticed for the first time that he was starving.

“Takeaway?” He glanced up at Sherlock who  immediately answered by pulling out his mobile.

“Angelo’s” he asked already dialing.

“Perfect. Chicken Parmesan for me. And see if he’ll deliver. I really don't want to go out.”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock smiled down at his mate and thought to himself how very lucky he was to have John Watson not only his friend, but his Alpha.

 

* * *

  


John looked back with concern as Sherlock slicked up his cock. He'd never had anything that big inside him before.yeah he'd had a few girlfriends experiment with their fingers before, even had one girl use her tongue, but never had anything even remotely phallic shaped gone inside him.

“You're sure about this?” Sherlock asked, not even bothering to hide the hope and desire in his voice.

“Yeah. Of course, just go slow. I'm not built like you.”

“No shit, John.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave John’s arse one more prod with his fingers, sufficiently shutting John up. “Now just relax…” he added as he withdrew his fingers and wiped the excess lube onto his own dick. With slow precise movements he pushed the tip of his dick against John’s tight ring of muscle and let out a hiss as he slipped inside.

“Don’t… don’t move.” John panted against the pillows as he waited for the burn to turn into pleasure. When the pain finally dissipated he gave a tentative wiggle, groaning as the very tip of Sherlock’s prick brushed against his prostate, making Sherlock gasp even louder.

“Alright, John?”

“Yeah, more than alright.” John whimpered against the pillow as Sherlock pushed in even further and his dick began to swell with interest.

“God, this is…” Sherlock grunted as he began to move.

“Yeah, I know…” John nodded into the pillow and began rocking back against Sherlock has hard as he could. Between the sweet slide of Sherlock inside him, rubbing against his prostate with every stroke, and the feeling of Sherlock’s thighs moving behind him, it didn’t take long for John’s cock to come to full attention. Sherlock seemed to have noticed this, because suddenly he leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around John’s leaking cock and matched his strokes with his thrusts, sending John into a whirlwind of moaning.

“Sh’rlock... Christ, right there. GOD!” John grunted, biting a mouthful of pillow in a desperate attempt to keep his cries from reaching down to Mrs. Hudson who had returned home earlier that afternoon.

“John, I can’t… much longer…” Sherlock panted and pressed his forehead against the small of John’s back.

“It’s okay, me too…” John hummed and wrapped one of his hands around Sherlock’s showing Sherlock how to squeeze every so lightly around the tip of his cock. Half a dozen strokes more John let go and nearly hollered as a white hot current tore through his body, sending sparks down his spine as Sherlock took him apart piece by piece. Sherlock’s cries matched his own both in pitch and in desperation as Sherlock too fell apart inside of John.

Sherlock stayed like that, folded over John, cock still buried inside his lover until he grew soft and slipped out. He then collapsed onto his back. A slow chuckle bubbled out and quickly grew into a hearty laugh as John’s giggling joined his. He didn’t know why he was giggling, other than the very simple reason that he was happy. Happier than he’d been, possibly in his entire life. He had an Alpha that didn’t care if it was considered taboo for a male Omega to make use of his cock in a sexual manner. In fact, judging by the mess John had just made all over their bed, he’d rather enjoyed it.

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock grinned and rolled over onto his side, facing John.

“Any time, darling.” John’s smile told Sherlock that he had meant it, wholeheartedly, and Sherlock blushed as John leaned forward and kissed him on the nose.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aerwyna is pronounced as ERWihNAH and means "Friend of the Ocean"

“Sherlock, just stop complaining and sit down!” John hissed through clenched teeth and caught Sherlock’s sleeve as he paced past him. “Do you see anyone one else pacing? No! Now… Sit.. Down!” he pulled hard on Sherlock’s arm and gave a satisfied grunt as Sherlock sat down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But  _ WHY _ are we here, and why aren’t you my doctor?” Sherlock was using his whiniest of whiny voices, perfected over the past five months of being pregnant. 

“We are here, because we are  _ trying _ to find you a doctor that you like! I legally cannot be the doctor to my mate, and you know this. So for  _ god’s sake  _ just shut up, and let Mike be your doctor. We both know him, and he’s doing us a favor. He bloody took time off from teaching to do this.”

“He was just looking for an excuse to stop teaching. He hated it.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and tried to stand up again, but John dug his hand into Sherlock’s arm and flashed him a look. So instead he snorted through his nose and glanced around at the other people in the waiting room.

“And don’t you dare start deducing the other patients. Not out loud. Just… do so quietly. Please.”  John pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. The sooner they got into the exam room, the better. So far, they’d been through 4 different doctors in the past 4 months. Sherlock refused to let any of them touch him, not even for a scan, insisting that John do it, and John was more than anxious to get Sherlock in and properly examined. 

“John, Sherlock?” Mike's voice made John look up in surprise, but gave his friend a relieved smile. Having Mike, someone Sherlock was familiar with, come out and not a random nurse, was a good start. “Why don’t you two follow me, and we’ll have a chat?” his cheery face soothed John’s worries, and even seemed to have calmed Sherlock down, if only by a fraction. 

John took Sherlock’s hand and together they followed Mike down the hall, passing the scale and triage station, only stopping until they were in a small but bright office, with an exam table tucked away in the corner. Sherlock gave one final glare at the scales then allowed John to shut the door, and only snarled softly as John pushed him towards a chair, thinking it was best to start him there, then the table. 

“So, Sherlock,” Mike sat down and grinned over his desk at Sherlock, then flicked his eyes to John who just shook his head and stood behind Sherlock, ready to push his mate back into the chair before he could flip the desk over. (It had happened, twice already with their previous doctors.) “What was it you didn’t like about your other doctors?” 

“They weren’t John.” Sherlock shrugged as if this were the most obvious fact in the world. 

“Would it be alright with you, if I was your doctor, but let John help? That way, legally, we’re all covered, and you can actually get a real examination? I can’t let John deliver the baby, or babies. But if, say… you were stuck at home with no  _ possible  _ way to get to the hospital… then, well, John would of course be there.” Mike winked at Sherlock, who immediately relaxed and nodded his head. Behind him, John gave a relieved sigh and pulled out a chair, sitting down hard in it. 

“Good!” Mike clapped his hands together and leaned back. “At least allow me to care for you for the remainder of your pregnancy. John told me you haven’t even had a scan, so for all we know we’re dealing with twins.” 

“Just one. John has already listened for heartbeats.” Sherlock glanced over at John, and when John caught his eyes, he thought for the briefest of moments that he saw a hint of an apology in those brilliant blue eyes. 

“Excellent!” Mike grinned again, then stood up from his chair. “Would you be more comfortable in the chair, or on the table?” 

Sherlock thought for a moment and surprised John when he stood, rid himself of both his coat and his suit jacket, and moved the the exam table on his own accord. 

“Jesus, Mike. I should have called you sooner.”

“Perhaps, but we’re here now. And that’s all that matters.”  Mike patted John’s shoulder as he walked past, then pulled on a pair of gloves. “Sherlock, if anything is too much for you, just let me know and we’ll stop. Alright? We’re just going to take this one step at a time.” 

John bit his lip and watched silently as Sherlock submitted himself to a full examination. It wasn’t until Mike began the scan that John moved to Sherlock’s side, gently placing a hand on his mate’s shoulder.

“Alright, Sherlock?”  He gave Sherlock’s shoulder a tight squeeze when Sherlock nodded, and watched the screen as Mike began moving the device around.

“I do have to pee…” Sherlock wrinkled his nose and tried his best not to look too eagerly at the screen, but when the clear shape of a baby's head,  _ his baby’s _ , appeared he gave up all pretenses of being bored with the examination. “John that’s…” 

“Yeah, it is.” John smiled and moved his hand from Sherlock’s shoulder to squeeze his hand. 

“Do you want to know the gender?” Mike asked as he began taking measurements of their baby. 

“Yes.” They both said in unison then laughed, because neither of them had discussed it, as doctors had been a bit of a sore subject until now. Mike just smiled, and type “GIRL” into the gender field. John bent down to kiss Sherlock on the lips and laughed as he caught Sherlock just as he was wiping away a tear.

“Happy?” he asked, as he pulled away, rubbing a thumb over Sherlock’s cheek. 

“Yeah, I am.” Sherlock nodded so hard his curls bounced and a smile the size of England covered his face. “John, can we name her after my grandmother Aerwyna?” 

“A perfect name, for a perfect little girl.” John whispered and kissed his mate one more time before attempting to compose himself. 

Later, as they left the office hand in hand, John looked over at Sherlock and smiled, happy to finally have Mike as their Doctor. 

“Sherlock, care for a bit of shopping? We’ve hardly gotten anything, and now that we know it’s a girl…” 

“Food first, John. I’m starving, and Aerwyna is demanding a burger.”

“Is she now?” John chuckled as he hailed a cab. “Well, we shouldn’t leave her wanting. Food it is.”

As he climbed into the backseat beside John, Sherlock smiled and thought how everything was going perfectly. They had a doctor, one who had practically suggested that Sherlock give birth at home, he had John, and now they knew they were having a little girl. Nothing could go wrong now. Not even Jim Moriarty could ruin things… Right? Sherlock shook his head and pushed the thought of the master criminal out of his mind. No, Jim didn’t matter. Not now, not when in four months he and John would have a family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
>  
> 
> Or is it?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Tune in next Saturday for the next chapter! I estimate this fic will have roughly five or six chapters, I have 3 full written, fourth started. :)
> 
> (Also, I am American, so please forgive me for anything that seems... a bit not "English")


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